


scars bleed golden

by stygianalpha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Captivity, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gladiators, Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Sharing a Bed, Slave Trade, Slow Burn, Space Pirates, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 175,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stygianalpha/pseuds/stygianalpha
Summary: an accident in battle ends with Keith and Lance somewhere they never could have imagined//Lance stared at the aliens past the barrier with wide eyes for moments longer, before looking to Keith. “Man,” he said.. “They’re selling us.”Keith didn’t answer.“They can’t fuckin’ sell us. Can they?’“Don’t think they care. They’re going to anyway.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey. this spawned out of a dream about Extreme Space Battles and now ive got this its been wild. also, i wasn't entirely sure how to tag it appropriately soooo lets say its kind of canon divergence in that i rewatched most of season two and pinpointed an area i thought would work. so. takes place after keith finds out he's half galra, but before the construction of the giant teladuv. somewhere in that murky timeframe idk  
> it could also just be a general au im not kidding about not knowing which tag to use (:
> 
> its rated t for now and may go up to mature it depends on how graphic i get in later chpts.  
> there will be no filth here i cannot do that with these boys. also, distinctly NON-SEXUAL SLAVERY ahead thanks
> 
> enjoy~~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tfw theres too many enemies that won’t stop shooting for the few seconds you need to form a giant robot and kick their asses across space ): ): ):

The expanse of space didn’t come with sound. It ate it, left void in its wake. No audio cues for friendly fire, enemy fire, nothing but the startling visual of fighters exploding. One by one, small Galra ships disappeared from the tapestry of the battle. The only sounds were the comms of the team, the small mechanical whirs as the lions moved, the ominous creaking as Galra lasers hit their mark. Anything else was left to imagination. 

An imagination currently in overdrive, supplying explosions to accompany the Galra fighters breaking under laser fire - sounds of worn metal snapping, ripping, combusting. Heavy dull bangs to go with the Yellow lion bodily throwing itself into a distracted enemy. Sharp, high bursts for Galra fire; lower, deeper echoes for the lions’ returning fire. The heavy thrums of lasers from the Galra cruisers had no sound because the sight of those lasers were frightening enough on its own.

The fighters outnumbered the lions ten-to-one. Or more. Probably more. Lance tried not to think about it, moving Blue instinctively to dodge another onslaught. Nearby - close enough to dash in and out of his view - Pidge was doing the same, Green lion rocketing past. Her voice cut through the comms: “There’s too many of them!”

A smattering of Galra fire lit up the right side of Blue, and Lance swerved the lion sharply before taking off in the opposite direction. Warning lights popped up, tracking the fighters that were close to his tail. He pushed the lion faster, maneuvering through space with more ease than should be possible. If he ignored the tail he was gathering, Lance had a great shot at a group of three fighters chasing after Pidge. A brief moment to line up and aim was all it took and the ships were exploding into soundless flames. He’d feel better about that if it had made a dent. Pidge’s hurried thanks was drowned out by the comms - 

“We should do something!” Hunk said. “Like, leave, maybe?” 

From where Lance was rolling around fighters, he couldn’t see Hunk at all. Wherever the big guy was, he sounded frantic. “Or we can just form Voltron,” Lance said, taking out another fight. “Kill them all, get out of here, y’know?”

It was the most obvious choice, really, and received nearly unanimous agreement. Nearly, because after voicing his agreement, Shiro added, “Keith, where are you?” 

Lance tore his eyes through the scene before him. Pidge,, attacking any fighter she could see; Hunk, gathering a tail to lead into the sight of the massive Black lion - and ramming into whatever got in his path. There was the Castle, a beacon of white far from the battle. The Galra fighters flitting between all of them, the two massive cruisers - one on Lance’s right, the other lurking behind Shiro - but not one speck of Red. 

Not surprising they lost one of them in this mess. 

Keith’s voice piped in: “I’m a little busy here.” 

Another burst of enemy fire hit Blue in the back. Lance rolled the lion closer to where Pidge was diving through enemies, talking as he did. “Busy with _what?_ We kind of need Voltron. Get over here!” He shot down another pair of fighters gunning for Pidge and hoped she’d return the favor as he flew by. 

“There’s almost twenty fighters after me,” Keith said. 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, so the same problem the rest of us are having,” he said. The comms were filled with noise. Pidge was cursing, Hunk asking Keith to just get back to them, Shiro commanding him to; all of it became background noise. Lance moved Blue through the fighters, turning away from the others, looking at the mass of Galra ships surrounding them. The cruisers, purple lasers and massive cannons; small fighters, moving in small groups, an endless supply of them.

Pidge was yelling at him. “What are you doing? Keep moving!”

Shiro, to Keith: “Don’t worry about the fighters. Voltron will take care of them. Just get over here, now.” 

There was a flash in the distance, something shining briefly between stars. 

Keith said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“The hell’s taking you so long?” Lance said, voice light even as he frantically searched the sky ahead of him. 

One of the Galra cruisers was moving, a slow turn through space. 

“Having more trouble than I thought. Just - Give me a minute.” 

A fighter was shooting at Blue’s right. Lance dodged it without taking his eyes off the scene ahead. 

“What, exactly, is more trouble?” Hunk was saying. “Because we’ve already got a lot here.” 

White lasers fired around Blue before the Green lion was roaring past him. “Lance, will you please move?” Pidge snapped. “I can’t keep saving your ass!”

“Lance.” Shiro now. “What are you doing?” 

A sudden flurry of movement - fighters streaming from behind the furthest cruiser. And, in front of those, the spark of red Lance had been looking for. He punched the controls immediately, Blue jolting forward fast and knocking him back into the seat. “Keith can’t get rid of twenty fighters,” he said with a grin. “So I’m gonna go help him out.” 

“I can take out fighters just fine!” Keith shot back. “They aren’t the problem.” He was piloting his lion in tight movements, just ahead of the fighters and bright purple lasers from the cruiser.

The cruiser that was turning to follow him. 

“You attracted a cruiser!?” Lance shot over Red, lighting up the trail of fighters. A good number of them blew up into silent mini-explosions. “What were you doing?” 

An instant flurry over the comms: shock from Pidge and Hunk, Shiro asking if they needed more backup. Keith was louder than all of them. “Took out an ion cannon. They weren’t happy about it.” 

The cruiser was focusing on Blue now as well. “You missed the rest of their guns,” Lance said, rolling to avoid damage. 

“I know!” 

Blue’s warning lights were going nuts. She was growling in the back of his head. The fighters were everywhere, the cruisers’ guns never stopped firing. He weaved through ships and purple lasers, swerving past Keith as each of them fired on the closest target. It was a mess. Galra lasers and ships filled Lance’s field of view. He and Keith were no where close to being in sync with one another - they took out the enemy fine, but Keith fired way too close for his comfort one too many times. Lance bumped into Red while dodging the cruisers’ fire, prompting Keith to tell him to watch out, pay attention. It wasn’t long, maybe twenty seconds, before Allura’s voice was cutting through their comms. 

“Paladins,” she said, voice sharp. “You’ve got incoming.” 

Lance groaned. He recalled the distance flash he’d seen with a sick feeling in his stomach. “Please don’t say it.”

“Another Galra fleet is moving in on your position,” Allura continued. 

“I’m gonna cry,” Lance muttered. His grip on the controls loosened for a moment, just long enough for a Galra fighter to nearly crash into him. It disintegrated before his eyes, melted by Red’s fire cannon. He jerked Blue into movement again with a sigh.

The comms reflected his opinion. 

Pidge sounded the most frustrated as she said, “Are you kidding me?”

Shiro’s resigned, “Alright,” was quiet. He said, “We can do this, guys. We’ve fought plenty of Galra before. This is no different.” A beat. “Group together, now.” 

The unspoken order for Voltron filtered through with his voice. Lance pulled Blue from enemy fire and changed course back to the rest of the team. A quick glance beside him showed Keith doing the same. 

But then Allura’s voice cut in again. “Oh no.” It was so quiet that, if all these exploding ships had sound, her words would have been drowned out. “There’s… there’s another fleet.” 

“You mean the one you already told us about?” Hunk said. “That fleet?”

“No. I mean  _ another _ one.” 

“Yeah. I was afraid of that.” Hunk sounded as resigned to this as Shiro. There was only one way out of this mess, and they all knew it. 

In the few seconds it took Lance and Keith to join the others, the Galra reinforcements had beared down upon them. Lance moved Blue with frantic, quick movements, trying to get close enough to the team that they could form Voltron and win this battle. They all fired, fighters taken down but replaced near instantaneously. One of the cruiser’s cannons was rotating in their direction and there was no time to think about who it was aimed at. The lions scattered, the cannon fired through empty space, and then that space was filled once more with Galra forces. 

“There’s no end to them,” Pidge said. “How are we supposed to form Voltron in this?” 

“We can’t,” Keith said. “There’s no way.” 

Silence, just long enough for Lance to attach a noise - a deep-seated hum - to the sudden white burst of fire cutting through the fighters, lighting up one of the cruisers.  The Castle had moved in close enough to assist. 

And then Shiro was talking and Lance’s attention was divided on listening and piloting. “You’re right,” Shiro said. “We need to regroup away from them. All we need is enough time to form Voltron and we can come right back and take them out. Allura, Coran - can you provide cover fire?” 

“Already on it!” Coran. “We can’t hold them for long, though, so make it quick.” The bright lasers from the Castleship came with his words, pummeling the Galra fleets in a halestorm. The lions were moving away from the battle as fast as possible, each one tailing Shiro as they flew. On the other side of the Castleship, they slowed to take up formation, and -

Allura was back. Louder than before. “We’re under fire! Quickly, Paladins!” 

Lance watched as the Galra cruisers fired on the Castle - on the Princess, on Coran. The barrier surrounding it was flickering within seconds. Three separate ion cannon bursts were aimed at the Castle and approaching fast. “We’ve got to help them!” he said, a rumble of agreement from Blue drifting through him.

“We can help them as Voltron,” Shiro said. “Now!”

Before he even finished speaking, the ion cannons’ hit the Castle. The barrier shattered. The Castle itself was blasted backward, the cannons’ fire smoking over the hull. In Lance’s mind, it sizzled and the Castle’s hull nearly screamed from the pressure against it. His eyes were wide and he turned Blue’s head without thinking, keeping the Castle in his sight. 

“Okay,” Shiro said, not missing a beat. “New plan. Save the Castle.” The black lion was already flying off, blade materializing in its jaws. “Hunk, Pidge - protect the Castle. Shoot any Galra that focuses on it. Keith and Lance, you’re with me. We have to take out those ion cannons.” 

The response was instant. Lance gunned Blue’s thrusters, taking off after Shiro. In the corner of his vision, the Red lion was doing the same. It didn’t take long for Red to overtake him, speeding off after the Black lion and firing a devastating laser from its mouth. He didn’t look back at the others; Hunk and Pidge would do just fine. He watched Shiro blow through masses of fighters, going for a cruiser dead ahead. Keith had taken off to his left. Lance pulled off to the right, barreling down on the nearest cruiser. 

He ignored the fighters, pulling evasive maneuvers through them to get an angle on the cannon. He had barely started firing before the telltale signs of activation sparked inside the cannon. Lance swerved immediately, flying a tight circle around the cannon to get at its backside. Laser still going, he set to meeting the damage he had already done. In that time, both Shiro and Keith confirmed a cannon down, moving to the next. Lance was doing the same a few seconds later, taking off from one cruiser to the next. 

The comms from Pidge and Hunk were silent as the second set of cannons were taken down. 

Then, Pidge - “It’s no use! Shiro, there’s too many of them!”

“We can’t keep up,” Hunk added. “Where are they all coming from?” 

The cruiser Lance was headed for fired again. He dodged, rolling, and ended up staring at the cruiser upside down. He didn’t see where the shot went. But the cries from Allura and Coran were answer enough, the curse from Pidge, Hunk’s plea to leave now before something worse happened. He took the time to turn Blue, looking back at the Castle. From here, it was too far to make out the blue lights that signified all its power was still working. He hoped to hell it was. “I’m gonna go help them out,” he said. He was directing Blue away from the cruiser before anyone could say otherwise. Fighters blew up around him as he flew, laser fire bursting from the tail of his lion. He aimed for a group of fighters beside Hunk, gaze flicking to the Castle before the ships were even down. 

Up close, he could see the damage. The lights weren’t out, but they were flickering; the thrusters were firing in short bursts to keep it from drifting, which to Lance only meant the power was one hit away from failing entirely. His heart was pounding, palms sweating in the armor’s gloves. “Shiro,” he said, “we need to get out of here.” 

“They’re going to take out the Castle,” Pidge said. 

“We can’t take another hit,” Allura said. “The defenses and the barrier are down.” There was a pause filled with Shiro ordering Keith to back away. “I can open a wormhole,” she said, “but we’ll only have one shot.”

“There’s no time for us to board,” Shiro said. “Do it, Allura. We’ll be right there with you.” 

The game plan changed again. The lions formed a line before the Castle, raining fire on whatever they could reach. Fighters were taken out in groups, they only moved to avoid the fire from ion cannons - and Lance could only hope that none of those hit the Castle. Just a few more seconds, he told himself, spraying ice on a particularly annoying group of ships. Hunk blew past, slamming into the frozen ships and sending them into others, a chain of explosions following.

And then Allura had the wormhole open, Coran was calling them to follow. Lance pulled Blue around again, ignoring the fire pinging off of her. Before him, the wormhole was swallowing the Castle steadily. Hunk and Shiro were closest, Pidge after them. Keith was beside him. They were going to get out of this. 

There was a tingle in his fingers, spreading up his arms. Lance wanted to attribute it to the wormhole but he wasn’t close enough. He had enough time to take one hand from the controls and shake it before Blue lurched, shuddering violently. Before the screens before him filled with static and bright, blaring alarms sounded. Before pain snaked up his arms like a current, flooding into his lungs and his bones, intense and white and powerful. 

He couldn’t hear himself screaming, but he could feel it tearing up his throat. His hands clenched around Blue’s controls, spasms running through him. He couldn’t tell if this was his own pain or Blue’s echoing through him. All he could see was stars, blurring fast. Blue lurched again, a shudder as the screens went dark, and Lance wasn’t sure if he could breathe anymore. His head hit the seat. 

Everything was silent. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The screams came out of nowhere. 

The Castle was nearly through, the lions on its heels. Then, there was Lance filling the comms with screams so loud Keith jumped in his seat. He snapped his head to where Blue had been, watching the violent purple overtaking the lion. 

Pidge was calling for Lance, Hunk echoing her cries. Allura’s voice was mixed in with theirs - “What happened?” she asked. 

Blue was drifting, the force of the cannon pushing the lion away from the wormhole. “Ion cannon,” Keith said. He was moving Red without thinking, thrusters on full to pull away from the wormhole’s grasp. “I’m gonna get him.” 

“Keith, wait!” Shiro. “We can help you!”

“No time.” The voices of his team weren’t important, not right now. There were too many enemy ships, too many lasers, and Blue was drifting further away with each second. 

Lance was drifting away. 

Keith broke free from the wormhole in only a few seconds, time dragging at him. He had no idea how fast Lance had been going, but if it was close to his own speed then the lion was going too fast. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to catch up, but Red…  With her thrusters on full, if Keith pushed hard enough, Red could cover the distance. They’d snatch Blue up and go on home, fly through space until they could pick up on the Castle’s location. Or until the Castle could reach them. 

Either way, Keith wasn’t leaving without Lance. 

He didn’t watch the others disappear. The only sign of their departure was the sudden cut off of Shiro’s voice in his ear, silence taking over. Static buzzed softly. With a flick of his wrist, Keith shut down the comms to his lion. Galra fire skated over Red, hitting him dead on. He didn’t stop. Wasn’t even sure if anyone was following him. 

Blue was disappearing, nearly a speck in the distance. The lion tumbled through the void, and Keith tailed it. Red kept a tracker up, a blinking signal of Blue’s location. Keith was pushing the controls as hard as he could, urging the lion on. “C’mon, c’mon,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “We can do this, Red. We can get him.” 

The minutes stretched on. 

He knew how this would end. Blue would drift on and on and on until she hit something hard enough to stop her momentum or until the lion rebooted itself. If it rebooted itself, Lance could take control again - if he was awake. 

If he was alive. 

A frustrated growl crawled up Keith’s throat. Lance was alive. He had to be. And he and Red were going to catch up. 

The empty space was filling up, slowly but surely. Planets and a sun. Moons. Asteroids beneath his flight path. Keith followed without hesitation. The icon was pulling him forward, a steadfast sign. He was close enough to make out more of Blue now, the speck of color growing minutely. Keith smirked, pushing harder still. “Let’s get him,” he said. In the back of his head, Red rumbled 

Blue’s blinking icon was heading straight for one of the planets. It was hard to judge how long it’d take for lion to reach it, but it was going to happen. At the speed Blue was going, she wouldn’t just hit the ground - the planet’s gravity would take her instead, throw her off to the side in another direction. Maybe even faster than she was going now. 

Keith was not going to let that happen. Lance and Blue were not going to be lost in space. He watched the lion grow before him as they flew past a massive gas giant. It blotted out the sun briefly, Red’s projected flight path and the icon for Blue keeping him straight. As the sun came back, Blue was much closer. Only a couple minutes more and he was there, right on top of her. The lack of light in the lion’s eyes was painfully clear. Keith set Red to descend to the other lion, made sure he had a strong hold with Red’s claws. 

The planet Blue had been aiming for was dead ahead, large and green. They were still approaching too fast; he pulled back on Red’s controls, pushing back now in an effort to slow the descent. He had to stop them before gravity got ahold of either lion, to get back to the Castle as soon as possible - but he needed to check on Lance first. 

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that the lions didn’t come with safety harnesses. 

“Gonna make a landing,” he said. “Then we’re goin’ home.” 

They were slow enough to descend safely now. Keith edged them forward at a steady pace, Blue a heavy weight beneath him. They were barely out of the planet’s atmosphere when Red pinged an alert at him: something was coming up behind them. Something big.. He blinked at it, looked from it to the planet, and then back. “You can’t be serious,” he said quietly. 

Red’s answering growl was enough. She was damn serious and as frustrated as he was by it.

Keith swore, turning Red around to get a good look. 

A Galra cruiser had followed him, followed the two lions to this system and found him. Keith looked at it, gripping Red’s controls tighter and scowling. Blue hung from Red’s claws, an easy target. He cast a glance at the ground far beneath them, the massive trees standing there. “We’re slow enough, right?” he said.

Red didn’t have an answer. He didn’t have an option. He had to let Blue go to land on the planet or else the other lion would be shredded by the Galra. If he had slowed them enough, Blue wouldn’t hit the ground too badly and there wouldn’t be much damage done to it - or to Lance.

“Definitely slow enough.” Quickly, Keith leaned over to the control panel, inputting commands and releasing Blue. The weight vanished in an instant, and Keith took the time to watch its fall. It was streaking through the sky, a missile set for the ground. Keith’s breath caught in his throat. He watched Blue plummet to the ground and winced when it hit. A plume of dirt and dust exploded outward and Keith cursed himself. “Not slow enough,” he said. “That’s not good.” 

Red’s warning light flashed brighter, an alarm tone sounding once, twice. Keith refocused, pulling his gaze from the crash below him. The Galra cruiser was arming its cannons, the sides of it lighting up quickly. He pushed Red forward in response, as fast as he could make her go. As soon as he broke into space, broke out of the planet’s orbit, he was firing. He set the fire cannon on the cruiser until the ion cannon was turning to face him and then dived up under the cruiser, firing on its underbelly. 

Fighters were on him without warning, lasers hitting Red from all sides. Keith leapt into them instantly, not giving the Galra a chance to aim steady and actually land a heavy hit. He blasted away fighters, tore through space around them. The fighters exploded one by one, and he drew back to the cruiser. Keith’s attacks, his movements, were all colored by his frustration. 

He shot Galra down and could only think of Lance on this strange planet. 

The cruiser’s cannon turned on him again even as its other defenses were choked down with the ships’ own molten sides. Keith snarled, pushed Red forward, and unleashed another blast directly into the cannon. He held on until the last possible moment, putting as much damage into this ship as he could. 

When he yanked Red’s controls sharply, he avoided the brunt of the ion cannons damage. It skated over Red’s back and rear legs before he could pull away, and warnings were displayed for him.. He needed to get help for Red but there wasn’t time.

Keith waited just long enough to watch the cruiser start to collapse in on itself, then plowed forward into the planet’s atmosphere. He assured Red he’d get help as soon as possible. As soon as he had Lance again, and Blue, and could take a moment to breathe without Galra showing up. The damage to Red was becoming obvious, the lion shaking more than usual as he sailed through the atmosphere. Amidst the warnings of failures, the icon for Blue was blinking ahead of him.

Halfway to the surface, Red gave out. The steady descent he was maintaining was gone, the lion diving to the ground.

Keith’s heart fell. “C’mon, don’t do this,” he said. The controls were useless. “We’re so close - “

And then he hit, a crash he heard and felt through his entire body. Red hit heavy, the metal of the lion groaning as the planet’s surface moved around it. Keith was pushed forward, nearly onto the dead control panel. He slammed both hands onto the panels, holding himself in the seat until the lion stilled. Then he was alone in the quiet, breathing deep and fast. His hands shook from adrenaline. 

It took a second for what happened to catch up to him. He had crashlanded on a strange planet. Lance was somewhere out there. He no longer had an icon telling him Blue’s location, but he knew the direction of the crater it had made. Keith tore out of Red’s cockpit in a sprint, stopping only to push the doors open. The lion had landed with its jaw slightly ajar, barely wide enough for Keith to squeeze through. He felt the scratch the teeth left on his armor. 

He was running as soon as he was able, pushing himself forward with short bursts from the jetpack’s boosters. Red had crash landed in a plain of rippling dark blue grass at the edge of a forest. He was in there in seconds, weaving through thick trees that looked gray and eerie, heavy branches bowing over the forest floor. The underbrush was thick. Vines coated trees and the ground, coating rocks. Keith paid attention to none of it, using trees to propel himself forward. 

He called Lance nonstop. The comms on the helmet were functional, connection open. “Lance,” he said. “Lance, it’s Keith. Answer me. I’m gonna take you back, okay? You’re gonna be alright.” A steady stream, kept up for the sole purpose of reaching the downed Paladin. 

Trees flew past him as Keith pushed the jetpack to its limit. He kept talking. “Lance, we’re gonna get back to the Castle. We’ll get you in a pod.” If Lance was alright, he would have answered by now. He would have answered immediately with some stupid joke. “Just hold tight. I’m coming.” Wildlife was skittering past him, diving into the underbrush to escape him. Keith ignored it, kept pushing, eyes sweeping the forest for any signs of damage. 

He tried not to dwell on the silence, on his heart pounding into his ribs or the ache in his legs. Guilt pressed at him - he should have double checked that Blue would have landed softer. He could have taken the time to actually set Blue down, to be sure that nothing would go wrong. 

“We’ll get out of here,” he said. “Hang on, Lance.” 

He spotted the burn marks on a massive tree mid-sentence, cutting himself off. “Ha! Got your trail,” he said, skidding to a stop. He scanned the forest around him, picking out more burns, a branch barely hanging to its tree. The trees were thick and he just barely make out the cracked trunk up ahead. He was grinning as he resumed running. “I’ll be there real soon, Lance,” he said. He grabbed hold of a vine, using it to pull himself forward at the same time he fired the jetpack again. “You left a hell of a mess behind you.” 

The crater where Blue had landed was massive. Broken trees edged it, filled it, the damn things lay underneath Blue’s massive body. The ground was blasted out, dirt pushed everywhere. Keith slipped in it before he caught his footing. Loose dirt after the compact floor of the forest was a drastic change. The guilt grew at the sight of the lion.

He didn’t let it stop him from bolting forward, yelling for Lance. 

Where Red’s jaw had barely been opened, Blue’s was gaping. She lay at a sharp angle, unmoving, and gave no sign of noticing Keith crawling over her downed paws and into her mouth. The doors were jammed; Keith activated his bayard, plunging the sword into the seal and pushing. When it opened, it stayed open. He didn’t think about it, letting the sword fall to the floor as he sprinted inside. The angle of the floor slowed him down somewhat, made him prop himself up with one hand on against the wall. 

Blue’s cockpit was as dark as his own lion. 

The only difference was Lance’s form lying as still as Blue. Keith stood frozen at the door, body heaving with the deep breaths he took, hands shaking as he grasped the doorframe. Lance lay at the sharp edge beneath the control panel on the left side, jammed there. His armor was scraped and damaged, the blue paint marred. 

Blue had hit hard, and Lance had been thrown violently from the seat. That was Keith’s fault.

Keith pushed himself forward, sliding down the floor to Lance’s side. He reached forward slowly, unsure of where to grasp. “Lance,” he said, voice shaking, quiet. “Lance, fuck, I’m sorry. Just… Hold on.” 

Lance couldn’t hear him. 

He took a deep breath, forced his hands to steady. “I got you, Lance.” He took the other Paladin by one arm first, pulling carefully to move him. “I’m here. We’re gonna get out of here.” Once he was able, Keith took ahold of Lance’s other arm, wrapping his hands around the others’ bicep. He stood, bent at the waist, and started slowly pulling Lance from the cockpit. He was afraid to lift Lance when he was clearly injured. There were marks on Lance’s neck that would be bruises before long. The helmet’s visor had cracked in several places, a small piece missing from the edge. There could be bruises and cuts, internal injuries, broken limbs - there was no way to tell, not through the armor.

Keith wasn’t trained for this. He didn’t know the first thing about injuries this severe, only knew how to take care of minor scrapes and the occasional small gash. They had to get help.

As soon as he got Lance out of the lion, Keith laid him in the dirt and knelt by his head. He frowned, brow furrowed, staring at Lance’s face. “You better be breathing,” he muttered. After a moment, Keith ripped one of his gloves off, lowering his hand to just in front of Lance’s face. Soft breaths hit his skin, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Good. You’re alive.” He sat back, hands in the dirt. The dirt was coarse against his one bare hand and Keith dug his fingers into it. He turned his gaze upwards, squinting in the sunlight. 

The clouds here were a sickly green. 

Keith decided he hated this planet. He closed his eyes and took several more steadying breaths, preparing himself to heave Lance back through this forest to Red. The damage to his lion was less severe. Red would probably turn herself on, and while that was happening, Keith could secure Lance. He’d pick up Blue and they’d be gone from here. 

He was getting to his feet when he heard a distant buzz. It sounded like bugs, but grew in volume to a hiss and then a dull roar. Keith whirled around, scanning the trees, then the horizon. He cursed, loudly, as he caught sight of a ship headed his way. There was no way this was good news. 

He started to activate the bayard, then remembered it was somewhere in Blue’s mouth. He sprinted back despite the ache pulling at his entire body. The bayard lay just within the jaw’s doors and the sword formed the instant he had it in his hands. He was back at the edge of Blue’s jaw when the ship landed.

It was small, big enough for two, maybe three people and not much else. As Keith watched, a door opened on its side, a cloaked figure moving out. 

He was at Lance’s side in an instant, slipping into a fighting stance and waiting. 

The cloaked alien turned its head before leaning back into the ship. Moments later, a second one was disembarking. Both of them wore helmets, but the second had no cloak. One alien had four arms, and held a long shining pole in two hands. The other two wielded a rifle. The other alien had a thick tail that dragged behind it as it stalked forward. It too held a rifle, but it leapt at Keith rather than fire. 

Keith cursed whatever ancient spirit he had pissed off to give him this bad of a day. First a massive Galra attack, then Lance, and now this. Unbelievable. 

He parried the alien easily, knocked it back, readied himself for another strike. When gunfire came instead, he had his shield up in an instant to block it. It became a dodging game then. Avoid the physical attacks, block the gunfire, push back the alien before him. Keith was on the defense and he didn’t like it, but he would not move from Lance. Not when the other was still unconscious, when the aliens could jump him in an instant. 

Keith fought the tailed one back before stepping back to where he started. Shield up, sword out. Protecting Lance. The aliens were speaking to one another in a language he didn’t understand, one that wasn’t translated for him. Either the translating systems in his helmet didn’t know it or they were too far away for it to pick up on it. 

It didn’t matter. 

He steeled himself, waiting and waiting until one of them moved. The four armed one. It lunged, the other covering it with gunfire. Keith blocked that, watching the other and ducking when it took a swing with one of those poles. Up close, he saw the curls of electricity around its tip. The second one came at him a moment later, the alien twirling the gun in its hands at the same time. Keith jumped the melee attack, barely managing to dodge as the alien slammed the butt of its rifle at him. It caught his shoulder instead of his head, but Keith could manage that. He grit his teeth against the pain and attacked, sword swinging to hurt, to hit somewhere that would make this alien go away. 

The blade cut through its cloak, nicked its side, and the alien danced away. One of its four arms swung again, the electricified pole narrowly missing as Keith ducked. He struck upwards, sword catching the alien’s wrist, and the pole went flying away from them, away from Blue. It landed somewhere in the dirt, but Keith was too busy parrying attacks and striking to pay it any attention. 

Then the alien spoke. This time, it translated. “Give up,” it said, voice filtered and deep. 

Keith’s eyes narrowed. Must have been too far earlier. 

“You are not going to win this,” the alien continued. “And your friend is dying.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You cannot win.” It struck out at his side and Keith swerved from it, feet sending dirt in the air. It had twisted the rifle around again, pointing its barrel at Keith’s head. “Give up now and you will live.” 

Keith didn’t answer. He swung the sword instead, slicing across the alien’s chest. It was a clean hit, and he heard the alien grunt as it backed off an inch.

Then he watched that gun reorient. 

“Give up,” the alien repeated. 

The barrel was on Lance now, and Keith snarled. “Leave him alone.”

“You give up,” the alien said, “or I kill your friend.” 

The noise Keith made was nearly a roar. He leapt forward, knocking the gun from the alien’s hands just as it pressed the trigger. The shot went wild, striking Blue and ricocheting into the dirt. Keith was on the offense, blows striking the alien one after the other. He parried the alien’s remaining weapon, pushing it back further and further away from where Lance lay. 

He raised his arm to strike its head. 

Something struck him in the back. A heavy blow that was enough on its own to make him stumble. Then electricity was flowing through his armor and into him. He dropped his bayard as the current made him seize, a strangled scream dying in his throat. It continued until Keith was on his knees in the dirt, blurred gaze on the alien above him. 

“I told you you would not win,” it said. One of its four arms was latched over a wound. “You are a difficult one.” 

Keith hit the dirt at its feet, breathing erratic and arms twitching.

✦✦✦✦✦

Dakri had seen the crash. She had watched the strange ships falling into the planet, tracked the descent of one as the other released it. The crash as it hit the ground travelled through the earth, the explosion visible even to where she stood outside the forest. She raised one arm to her eyes, looking through a sharp scope’s view of the second craft coming back, crashing as well. 

This was good. They needed another haul. Dakri lowered the scope, turning to jog back to the camp. They had set up on a rocky shore with just their ship and a fire. Lykaon sat in the dirt by the fire, tail thumping at the ground. He rested his chin on one clawed hand, boredom written across his features. 

“We must go,” Dakri said. She slowed but didn’t stop, moving briskly through the camp to the ship. 

Lykaon didn’t move. When she looked at him, he had only raised his brow questioningly. 

“A ship has crashed.”

“I felt it,” he said. “What’s the hurry?” 

“There was a second.” She was already pulling the ship’s door open. “It is likely that it’s pilot will be after the first. We must get there.” 

Lykaon got his feet with a sigh. His tail threw dirt over the fire as he moved to join her. “We’ll get the pilots first,” he said as he hefted a box of their supplies back inside. 

She agreed, of course. It was always easier to strip a ship after its pilot was removed. 

The flight there was short, their ship cutting through the air seamlessly. The strange craft they were approaching was visible through the front window. A massive blue and silver creature, limbs askew and head angled violently. “What,” Lykaon asked, “is that thing?” 

“No idea,” Dakri said. “But I am sure it will make for a lot of money.” 

As they pulled closer, the figures beside the ship became clear. Small in stature, the one standing wore red and white armor like a uniform. Lykaon landed the ship and Dakri was on her feet, reaching for her helmet with one hand and pulling weapons from the walls with her lower arms. Once the helmet was secure, she took a rifle and pushed out. Lykaon followed shortly. 

The altercation was short. Her opponent was violent but held back - it pushed Lykaon away and did not chase, did not pounce on her as she approached. A weak one, she thought. She didn’t pay attention to the second one lying on the ground. Not until it became clear that the first was protecting this one. Then it became a useful tool in the battle, a distraction, a ploy to draw the first away. 

She warned him to stop. 

They could have ended this cleanly. Instead, Lykaon shocked it, brought it down to its face in the dirt. She told it the truth: it was a difficult one. Much more difficult than she had initially thought. As soon as the first lay as still as the second, she looked up to Lykaon. “Is that one worth it?” she asked, pointing with one arm to the one in blue. “Is it even alive?” 

Lykaon moved to its side, considering. He pulled a scanner from his belt, activating it and training its attention on the body. The light flashed over it twice, and the scanner beeped. “Alive,” Lykaon confirmed, “but hurt. Minor internal injuries.” He nudged it with one foot. “Head injury, fractured arm. Seems the armor protected him from anything too bad. Nothing we can’t fix.”

“Him?” 

Lykaon nodded. “Never seen this type before, but the scan says male.” 

Dakri looked at the one by her feet. “This one a male too, then? Rather small for a male.” 

“We can’t all be as tall as you,” Lykaon said. He was headed her way, scanner back on his belt, rifle on his back. “I will get this one. Go get the other - and be careful with him. They’ll fetch a good price, but not if you break one.” 

Dakri scoffed. “I have not broken anyone in a long while.” 

“Two trips ago,” Lykaon started, hefting the red male into his arms, “you shattered one’s arms.”

That was true. “That one deserved it,” she said, stalking to the blue male. She lifted him carefully with her lower arms, using her left upper one to support his head. No more injuries, she’d be sure. Lykaon and herself would fix him up as they were able and by the time they reached the station, he’d be well enough for anything. 

After the males were loaded into cargo and strapped down, Dakri climbed into the seat beside Lykaon. He was firing the engines as she buckled herself in. “We’ll return for that ship,” he said. “Find the other if we can.” 

She nodded. It was a good plan. Nothing on this planet would get in the way, its lifeforms too primitive to be a threat to them. They opted for a short flight to a nearby freighter rather than go all the way back to Alton Orbital Station. Lykaon had friends there and was able to secure a safe place for the pilots’ to be held. The freighter was set to head for Alton in two more cycles, with or without Lykaon and Dakri. 

On the way back. Dakri suggested they strip what they could of the blue craft and bring larger ships down once more to heft the second one up. They could sell the entire craft rather than pieces of it. Lykaon agreed. 

When they came back, three days had passed on the planet. 

And the blue craft was nowhere to be found. The crater was still there, flattened trees and blasted earth, an indent where it had lain. But it was gone. Vanished. Lykaon cursed.

Dakri snarled, tossed her helmet at a tree. “I will kill whichever scav beat us here,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from the score's [Legend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jecQcgbyetw) cause that was i was listening to at the time
> 
> if you ever, at any time, think i need to add any tags let me know


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lost: two paladins; please return to castleship if found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aiming for weekly updates, but we'll see how that goes

Keith awoke first, crawling from the tangled depths of unconsciousness. It took several times to open his eyes, lids too heavy for anything else. He stared at his feet on a gray floor. Dirt clung to his boots. For a few seconds, that’s all he looked at - then, slowly, he raised his head. It felt as if he were being shaken gently, a constant rocking. Ahead of him, boxes were held against a dirty white wall by straps. The light washed everything out, made the dark blue marks on the boxes look faded and bleak.

None of this was familiar. He closed his eyes, shook his head to clear it, and opened them again. 

There was a buzz around him, a hum pressing into his back. It made his skin tingled. Keith frowned, made to move one arm, and was stopped short. Something was holding him back; he glanced down to see a thick band the color of freshly turned dirt secured over his chest and upper arms. Dingy silver cuffs held his hands in his lap. A matching set was around his ankles. Keith’s next breath was sharp with sudden clarity. 

He remembered the crash landing, the aliens, the brief fight that he had fought - and Lance. His head snapped up so fast he was dizzy, the boxes opposite him blurring momentarily. When it cleared, he glanced around him. 

It was just a small room, filled with boxes. An empty case was bolted to the wall next to him. The light overhead flickered dully. To his right, there was a door. To his left, there was an empty seat, a strap that mirrored the one across his chest hanging from it. The image of Lance strapped in beside him, cuffed as he was, flashed bright in Keith’s mind. That had to have been it - Lance was here, had been in here at least, and now he was gone. 

Adrenaline was pumping through his veins as this whole situation started to make sense. Keith had no idea where he was, but he had been captured and he had a goal. The same one as before, actually. Find Lance. Help Lance. Get the hell away from here. He struggled against the strap over his chest to no avail. He pushed against it, gripped the seat under him with his cuffed hands and pulled, tried to find purchase on the floor with his boots. Nothing worked, and Keith slumped in his seat once more. 

The hum was still present, the soft vibrations against his back. 

He took a deep breath, trying to focus. He had to figure out where he was before anything else, and then he could make a plan and - 

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place without warning, nothing to trigger it. 

This was a ship. Keith was on a strange ship and that constant hum was from the engine. He turned the thought over in his mind, staring down at his hands. The Paladin armor was cracked over his left hand. He was trapped in someone’s ship, alone and secured from escape.

What the hell was going on? 

The door opened with a soft hiss, footsteps heralding the arrival of someone. Keith glanced up and immediately glared. One of the aliens from that planet, the one with the tail, was staring him down. It had dark gray skin and deep set black eyes. This was those aliens’ ship. Of course. They had taken him and Lance - for what reason? To give them over to the Galra? Where the hell were the lions then? Were they being turned over as well? 

He wanted to ask all of that. But then he opened his mouth and- “What did you do with Lance?” 

The alien tilted its head, a thick bridge over its eyes raising. It spoke but it made no sense, guttural noises and artfully rolled sounds. Keith’s glare faded into confusion. Again, the alien spoke, and Keith could only stutter out a response. “I - what - what the hell are you saying?” He pulled at the strap over his chest again. “What’s going on? Who are you?” 

It said something else, and when Keith failed to answer, it released a breath through its nose. 

“Why can’t I understand - ?” He stopped short. The helmet he had been wearing was missing and he was stunned that he hadn’t noticed its weight was absent. Outside of the lions, far from the Castle, from any devices Allura or Coran or Pidge could have given him, that helmet was the only thing that let him understand alien languages. 

A strangled noise rose from his throat. Keith grit his teeth, staring the alien down. His heart was racing again, the urge to run so strong his feet jittered against the floor of the ship.

The alien lowered a hand to its belt and Keith watched; there were only three fingers on each hand. The alien reached into a pouch hanging there and pulled out a small device - a rectangular, boxy thing that was half as long as its fingers. It gave Keith another glance, then strode over and, without warning, set the end of the device against Keith’s neck. It was sharp, some kind of barb, and a cold feeling trickled from where it sat through his skin.

Keith shivered. “The hell…? What’d you do to me?” 

The alien didn’t respond. It pocketed the device once more, patted Keith on the shoulder, and turned. The door slid closed behind it and Keith was left to listen to his frantic heartbeat and quickened breathing. He was panicking, he knew, but he couldn’t do anything and he couldn’t understand any of this and - and he still didn’t know where Lance had gone. 

His vision was swimming, the door blending into the walls. He shook his head and only made it worse. In a few seconds, every part of him felt heavy, slowed. He thought, _ They drugged me _ . Blackness was forming at the edge of his vision, pulling him under even as he fought against it. 

✦✦✦✦✦

When he came to again, Keith was lying on an uncomfortable bunk. His head was clearer now and he sat up slowly, taking stock of everything around him. The bunk was a tattered excuse of a mattress flung onto a solid metal frame. The room was small, devoid of anything but another bed opposite him. Three of its walls were the same metal as the bed, cool to the touch. 

The last wall was a forcefield of some kind. Soft green light emanated from its edges. Keith rose on unsteady feet to assess it closer, and several more things became painfully obvious.

The first: his stomach was roaring for food and his mouth was dry. 

The second: he felt better than he had since the crash.

The last bothered him the most. Every piece of Paladin armor had been stripped from him, leaving him in only the black flight suit and boots. He patted himself down and frowned. A sour taste in his mouth, Keith added a fourth item to that list: those bastards had taken his Mamora blade as well. 

He was defenseless and standing in some kind of cell. 

Great. 

With a sigh, Keith walked the few feet to the barrier. He pressed one palm against it and the green flooded out from his touch in ripples. It reminded him painfully of the barriers the lions would surround themselves with. He had to stop himself from thinking of Red and Blue and where they were now, focusing instead on what lay beyond his cell. 

The immediate area was empty, the metal floor shining and spotless. He cast a look at the floor by his feet to see it clean, but dingy. Lights were installed in the floors outside the cell, a pleasant white that gleamed off the metal surrounding it. Further away, partially obscured by the hall ahead, aliens mingled around what Keith could only describe as a waiting area. Seats were laid out next to the wall, an open archway functioning as a door. There was even a desk, covered in tablets and a massive computer. As he watched, an alien ambled in, walked to the desk, and spoke with whoever was behind it animatedly. It gestured with its hands - and Keith thought of Lance’s exuberant attitude. It felt like someone punched him in the gut. 

Keith dropped his gaze from the aliens, pulled his hand from the barrier. He backed up to the cot and sat down on it, eyes on the ground now. He had forgotten Lance somehow. The other boy’s absence was a cold reminder of what had happened down on that strange planet, of Keith’s failure to get him back to the Castle safely. 

He sat there, glaring at the floor, playing the initial battle over in his head. Over and over again, he saw the cannon strike Blue in his mind’s eye. The stark burst of purple against the black of space. The way Blue had lurched violently, drifted away from them. 

Lance’s screams echoed through his head. 

Keith’s vacant stare grew to a scowl quickly, hands curling into fists over his knees. 

He recalled the flight through space, and the memory of Red’s presence in the back of his head only made the absence of her so obvious it hurt. He remembered catching Blue, the Galra, running through a forest, the aliens. Anger was coiling through him. The battle had taken a lot out of him, but he should have been able to fight off two damned aliens. 

He was still glaring at the floor when footsteps caught his attention. He looked up, gazing through his hair at a pair of aliens that walked through the barrier with no problems. They paid him no mind, their attention on the person they held up between them. Keith was on his feet in a second, anger vanishing. 

The pair of aliens held onto Lance. He wasn’t speaking, barely moving his feet. They sat him on the other cot, let him go, and Lance fell onto his back, face turned to the ceiling. Keith didn’t even wait for the aliens to have left the cell before he was crossing the distance between them. He leaned over Lance, gaze flickering over his body before holding steady on his face.

Lance’s armor was missing too, the flight suit and boots identical to Keith’s. His left arm was wrapped up in some kind of sling, tightly held to his chest without any visible straps. The sling was as dark as his suit. Bruises still littered his neck, a few scattered over his face. His eyes were glassy and dazed, but looked right back at Keith.

For a moment, both of them just stared.

Then a lazy, almost sleepy, grin sparked to life on Lance’s face. “Hey, Keith,” he said. He was quiet. 

Keith smiled despite himself. “Hey, Lance.” 

An exhausted giggle leaked out of Lance. He raised his good arm to grasp Keith’s hand loosely. “Keith.” 

Keith waited and when Lance didn’t say anything else, he shook his head lightly. “They drugged you up, huh?” 

The only response was another tired laugh.

✦✦✦✦✦

Keith was pacing. They had been trapped in this cell for god only knew how long, and all Keith did was pace. Every single day, back and forth in front of the barrier as he glared out at the aliens. 

Not that Lance was doing much better. He spent most of his time watching Keith pace. Currently, he sat against the wall with his legs crossed, free arm braced on his knees, chin in his hand. His left arm was still secured to his chest and he couldn’t remove that stupid sling no matter how much he tried. “Hey,” he said. “Do ya think - “

“I don’t know,” Keith said. 

Lance frowned. “I didn’t even finish the question.” 

“Was it something stupid about why we’re stuck here?” Keith didn’t turn to look while he walked. “Cause if it was, I don’t know.” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” Lance muttered. 

Keith sighed, finally stopping and turning his head. His dark eyes bored into Lance. “What?” 

“Do ya think someone’s feeding Kaltenecker?” 

Keith stared at him.

Lance stared back.

“That’s… the cow, right?” 

“Uh, yeah. Obviously.” 

Keith rolled his eyes, turning his attention back outside their cell. He wasn’t pacing anymore at least. “I’m sure they’re taking care of Kaltenecker.” 

“Man, I hope so.” 

Keith turned to face the barrier, leaving Lance’s eyes to slide off him and stare vacantly around the cell. He had even less ideas of long they had been here than Keith, having slept half the time away. The last clear thing he remembered was the wormhole and the pain of a cannon landing a hit on Blue. Keith had explained what had happened to them without meeting Lance’s eyes, from crashing on an unknown planet to when Lance awoke here.

Or at least, up to when Lance woke up with a clear head. According to Keith, though he slept a lot when the aliens brought him in, Lance had woken twice to babble nonsense at him before going back to sleep. When he’d asked, “How long do you think it’s been?”, Keith had snapped “I don’t know” before conceding that maybe a few days, at least.

A few days was a long time to be cooped up like this. The cell was boring and dingy and the aliens spoke in languages they didn’t understand. The barrier wouldn’t respond to them, but allowed a stocky alien in a gas mask to drop off food and water at regular intervals. The water was always room temperature and tasted faintly of metal, and the food was just blops of goop that made Lance miss the food goo at the Castle more than he ever thought possible. Didn’t stop him from taking spoonfuls of Keith’s off his plate. 

The missing armor and weapons had alarmed him. He had only mentioned it once and never again because Keith’s eyes had flashed dangerously. Lance may not mind arguing with the guy but he wasn’t going to provoke him when they were trapped in a room together. 

Keith didn’t like being defenseless, he guessed. Made perfect sense. Lance didn’t like it either. It left him uneasy, on edge every time he laid down to sleep. 

The silence between them now carried on for several minutes. Lance was watching a weird multi-legged alien leading what looked like a giant rat on a leash when he spoke again.”Y’know what I wish?” 

Keith didn’t answer. 

“I wish I had gotten to see you mime having to piss.” 

Keith’s answer was a groan and Lance grinned to himself. “I didn’t mime anything.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He cast a glare over his shoulder that looked more like a pout. 

Lance snickered. “How’d you get them to show you the bathroom then?” 

“Not by miming!” 

“Hey, Keith?” 

Keith made some huffing noise. 

“You’re blushing, buddy. You did mime it, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up. You’re an idiot.” 

The bathroom was just a small room between the two cots. It was activated via touch, just lay a palm on the wall several feet up and a door slid open to the smallest, weirdest looking bathroom Lance had ever seen but, hey, it worked. There was a divot in the wall that sprayed water when they put their hands under it, and a creepy looking space toilet. Lance had watched Keith open it all of one time before immediately deciding the other boy had mimed having to piss to aliens. How the hell else would he have found it?

“I am so telling the others about this,” Lance said. “Imagine Shiro’s face when he learns you mim-”

“Lance!” Keith whirled around, still glaring and still red, and Lance cut himself off with peals of laughter. “Can you take this a little more seriously? All you’ve done is make bad jokes and annoy me.”

His laughter trailed off, and he shrugged as best he could with one free arm. “Hey, my jokes are awesome.” And if he focused too long on what was happening, he’d probably end up sobbing in Keith’s arms or something. No need for that to happen. “You just don’t understand, like, half of them.” 

“You could help me figure out what to do,” he said.

Lance straightened up, gesturing at the barrier. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s start with the barrier we can’t get through.” 

Keith glanced behind him. 

“That thing. Got any bright ideas about that, Keith?” 

The other boy was pouting again. He murmured, “No,” so quietly Lance nearly missed it. 

“Well, until we get past that” -another gesture at the barrier, more pronounced than the first- “I don’t think we can do much.” 

Keith crossed his arms with a sigh. He met Lance’s gaze. “Fine,” he said, “but as soon as we’re out - “

“We’ll make a plan,” Lance finished, nodding. He smiled at Keith and all he got in return was Keith shifting on his feet and turning to resume pacing. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“Watching them.” 

“Uh huh. Why?” 

Keith was silent again. Of course. Lance tilted his head back against the wall, gazed up at the ceiling, trapped fingers tapping against his chest. A jolt of pain stopped him and he winced. After an ion cannon blast and a crash landing, he honestly expected more than just one arm having trouble. 

They lapsed into another silence, though Lance may have started humming out of boredom. The only other sound was Keith’s constant footsteps. When that stopped, Lance’s humming stopped too. He heard Keith start to talk and shot up in time to take stock of the three tall aliens on the other side of the barrier. Then the barrier was down, two of the aliens took Keith by an arm each and Lance was on his feet instantly. 

Lance said, “Let him go!” at the same time Keith cursed. 

The third alien put a head on Keith’s hand, forcing it down. It raised a gleaming silver gun and Lance’s heart dropped. Before he could do anything, the alien placed the gun at the base of Keith’s neck and squeezed the trigger. 

Keith grunted. 

Lance blinked, confused. There wasn’t a gunshot or anything like that. What the hell was happening now? “Keith?” he said, stepping closer. “You okay?” 

“Fine,” Keith answered. The aliens released him and he stumbled back, a hand going to the back of his neck. 

Lance reached for him, but the aliens were on him now, holding him still so the third one could repeat what she had done to Keith. The aliens were talking now, but he understood nothing. 

Except - 

“ - short one’s going to be difficult.” 

Except he could. 

“He can be difficult.” That was one of the aliens holding onto him. They had a voice like gravel. “Someone on Zeta’ll take him for sure.” 

Lance was released and he retreated to Keith’s side, unsure of what else to do. He looked between the three aliens, then at Keith. The other was staring at the third one with a deep frown. “Keith,” Lance whispered. “What the quiznak just happened?” 

Keith elbowed him. “Shut up.” 

The two aliens that had taken hold of them were covered in light fur, white horns curving over their heads. They spoke to each other and ignored the third; everything they said was about Lance and Keith and some place called Zeta. 

Seeds of unease were sprouting in Lance’s stomach. He edged even closer to Keith until their arms were touching. 

“Taller one’ll fetch a higher price,” one of the horned aliens said. Its eyes flicked to Lance and he twitched. 

“Nah,” the other one said. “Those Zeta freaks love the angry ones.” 

“You weren’t in the medbay,” the first replied. 

What did that mean?

Keith seemed to be thinking the same. “What’d you do in a medbay?” he asked, voice too low to be heard by anyone but Lance.

“No idea,” Lance said, just as quiet. “You hear that about a price?”

Keith’s face was grim. “Tried not to.” 

The third alien spoke then, a calm piercing voice with clear feminine tones. “Stop gossiping. If you’re going to be here, be useful.” This one had a face that reminded Lance of a bird of prey - sharp, deadly eyes; thin angles. And, y’know, a beak. There were green marking over her eyes, tracing over the top of her beak. 

One of the horned aliens stepped forward, taking the gun from the bird when it was offered. Then it was gone, walking past the edge of the cell. The other one dipped out to go to the opposite wall, where it pulled up a holographic interface of some kind. Then their body was blocking the view. Next thing Lance saw was a hole opening in the wall and the alien pulling a container from it before joining the bird again. 

Those sharp eyes turned back to Lance in an instant. “You. Come here.” 

Lance raised his eyebrows and shook his head. 

“That was an order,” the alien said. “Come. Here.”

“I’d rather not.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” she said. “You don’t have a choice. Come here, now.” 

“I’m okay here.” 

The bird growled. It sent a shiver down Lance’s spine. She raised one hand, made a violent motion, and the horned alien marched over to take Lance by his injured arm and toss him forward. He winced, grit his teeth against the brief spark of pain. The bird took his chin in hand; she had claws that dug into his skin. “Visible injuries are healing,” she said. “Should have internal injuries checked again before he’s sold.”

The unease in Lance’s gut tripled. He gulped, tried to pull away, and the bird’s claws sunk in deeper.

Her other hand was held out, palm up, and the horned alien dropped a small device into it. Looked like a flashlight, almost. The alien pressed a button its side but instead of shining light, a small needle poked out. 

Lance’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re not going to stab me with that thing.“

The alien jammed it into his neck. “Stop talking,” she ordered. The needle stung. She pulled it back almost instantly, and a holo sprang to life from its handle. She let Lance go, pushing him back with strength he hadn’t expected. “Take note,” she said. A pause, while the horned alien pulled a tablet from the container. “Earthling. Young. Overall good health, if injuries are taken care of.” Her sharp gaze flicked back to him, raking him up and down. “Set price to ten thousand.” 

Bizarrely, Lance’s first thought was of the game system he and Pidge had bought. This alien priced him lower than a game system.

She continued: “Note the fight in the medbay. Supply images if need be.” Then her gaze was back on Lance and she asked, “How is your arm?” 

“What?”

“Your arm.” 

“I - uh.” Lance looked down at the arm stuck to his chest. His heart was pounding too hard and the unease he felt was quickly becoming fear. “It’s… fine? Hurts sometimes?”

The bird made a soft noise of affirmation. When Lance looked back up, the other horned alien was back. The bird looked at this one, said, “Get me the other,” and the horned alien strode forward to Keith. 

Lance tensed and put himself between the two before he had time to think about it.

The horned alien blinked at him. Their eyes looked remarkably human. “Don’t make me hurt you,” they said. “I got a job to do.” 

Keith’s hands were pressing against his back. “Lance,” he said quietly, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“Don’t know,” Lance said. His voice was a pitch higher than normal. 

He heard Keith sigh as he watched the alien’s lips pull up. They had fangs. “Move, you idiot.” Lance didn’t respond, letting Keith push him out of the way. And then he could only watch as the bird repeated the same procedure on Keith. To his credit, Keith kept a stony expression on his face the whole time.

“Part earthling,” the bird said, “and part Galra.”

The one holding Keith made a doubtful noise. “Bit scrawny for a Galra.”

Lance could see the brief flash of annoyance on Keith’s face from here. 

The bird ignored the comment. “Young,” she said. “Excellent health. Set price to fifteen thousand.” She paused, looked Keith up and down, and added, “Add a note on the anger we’ve seen. His price should double easily.” 

Then Keith was pushed back by the horned alien. The trio of them stepped out of the cell and the barrier descended once more. It cut off the sound of them talking instantly - noise cancelling, this entire time. Lance stared at the aliens past the barrier with wide eyes for moments longer, before looking to Keith. “Man,” he said. His voice was shaking. “They’re selling us.”

Keith didn’t answer, but his gaze locked onto Lance’s. He looked about as angry as Lance was scared. 

“They can’t fuckin’ sell us,” Lance whispered. “Can they?’

Keith was snarling, eyes dropping to the floor. “Don’t think they care,” he said. “They’re going to anyway.” 

Lance gaped at him briefly before his mouth snapped shut. He took Keith by the shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Dude. Dude! I can’t be sold!”

Keith shrugged him off, saying, “Stop shaking me.” 

Lance latched onto him again, squeezing instead of shaking. “Keith. Are we… are they making us slaves?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Slowly, his hand came up to pull Lance’s own from his shoulder. He held onto Lance for a moment then sat onto the cot with a deep sigh. “I don’t know,” he said. “Sounded like it.” 

After a second, Lance sat down next to him, keeping his eyes on Keith rather than look at the aliens that had just manhandled and priced him for sale. He looked over Keith’s drawn expression, the hard line of his mouth and the deep furrow in his brow. “Hey,” he said, scooting closer. “Let’s, uh, stay together. Okay?” 

Keith looked at him again. His eyes was dark, furious. Lance thought he could see fear somewhere in there too. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips. “Yeah. We’ll stay together.” 

Lance nodded, clenching his jaw. He fought to steal his face of anything he was feeling, projecting confidence instead. He wasn’t sure if it worked. “I won’t let some creepy alien separate us,” he said. “Gonna make sure we’re, uh, we’re sold together.” 

The anger in Keith’s expression faded just a little bit. He didn’t say anything, just raised his hand to settle on Lance’s shoulder. A brief bit of contact that, from Keith, was rarer than most hugs Lance had had in his life. 

✦✦✦✦✦

When the aliens returned, time had stretched on so thick with tension that it could have been a week. Lance’s leg was bouncing and Keith was picking at one sleeve of his flight suit. Neither of them spoke, but they exchanged a worried glance when one of the horned aliens approached them. They took Lance by his good arm without a word, yanking him to his feet. Lance threw Keith a panicked glance over his shoulder instantly; Keith was on his feet before Lance had even crossed out of the barrier. 

Before he was pulled away, Lance saw Keith’s face contort into rage.  _ Scary _ , he thought dimly. 

The alien pulled him along through the hallway, past identical cells. Half were empty. The other half were occupied by pairs of grim faced aliens who looked up as he passed by. Lance couldn’t meet their eyes, turning his head and dropping his gaze. He was a Paladin of Voltron and should’ve been fighting to free these aliens, but here he was instead. Being priced and set up to sell to some freak in outer space.

The Castle flashed in his mind and he wondered when he and Keith would be found. Because if anyone could find them, it was the Princess and she would never leave them behind. He was sure of it.

Thinking of the Castle and the others didn’t do anything to calm him. All he could think of now was history lessons on slavery, the bird’s set price for him running through his head.  He was shaking when the alien shoved him roughly through a door. The room he was in confused him immediately. 

It was stark white and laced with grays. A table sat to one side, big enough for Zarkon himself to lay on. Smaller tables surrounded it, set with trays and tools. A huge machine was hanging from the ceiling, angled to face the table. 

Lance blinked. He thought: hospital.

On the heels of that, he remembered the medbay comment one of the horned aliens had made earlier and knew exactly where he was. He may not remember having been here before, but this was it. A medbay on an alien ship. 

He was alone for only a few seconds before a door on the opposite side of the room slid open. The bird entered, looked at him, and waved him over. “I need a look at your injuries,” she said when he didn’t move. “Come here.” 

Lance frowned. He wanted to tell the alien he didn’t like being ordered around like this, but the words didn’t come out. 

The bird let out an irritated growl, crossing the room quickly and pulling Lance to the table. She shoved, the back of his knees hit it, and he sat. Then she was leaning forward to remove the sling. He had no idea how the hell she did it when he and Keith together couldn’t dislodge it. She set it aside and took his arm in her hands, turning it slowly. “Tell me if this hurts,” she said, bending it sharply.

Lance yelped. “Yes! Jesus, lady!” 

She hummed, then bent it the opposite way to get the exact same reaction. “Healing too slow,” she said to herself. She let him go, turning away to one of the tables. “Lay back and be still.” 

Lance pulled his arm to his chest with a wince. The table she was at held sharp looking tools and he made a face. “Yeah, one question,” he said. “What the fuck is happening?” 

The bird ignored him. She turned, holding a syringe. 

Lance’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Lay back,” she repeated.

“Get away from me.” 

The bird’s eyes rolled all the way around in their sockets. It was creepy. She pushed at him with her free hand, forcing him onto his back. “It’s a healing serum,” she said. “Now stop talking and stay still.” 

He eyed the syringe warily, but she moved so fast he couldn’t have stopped her from pushing the needle into his neck. Whatever was in the thing was pushed into his bloodstream in seconds. It took effect quickly, a tingling rush spreading from his neck all the way down to fingertips. He shook his hand with a frown and then the bird was focusing the huge machine above him to his ribcage. 

“Stay still,” she said, “or this will hurt you.” 

Lance froze immediately. 

“And don’t look at it,” she added. 

He flicked his eyes to the ceiling, waiting for some kind of flash or a beam or something. Nothing happened besides a series of beeps. The bird moved the machine further back and Lance sat up slowly, watching her. “What was that?’

She ignored him. 

He frowned, flexing his left hand. The whole arm still tingled. 

The bird was looking at a screen on another table, flicking through pop ups full of incomprehensible alien texts. There was a brief render of someone’s insides that made him glance up at the machine. “That’s a space x-ray machine, isn’t it?” he said. “You just took a damn x-ray.” He wished he could shut up, but he was too anxious to not talk. “So, how bad are my injuries? Am I dying? Wait, if I was dying, you wouldn’t sell me. Haha, you’d probably just toss me away or something.”

“You would be culled,” the bird replied.

Lance shut his mouth with a whimper. He wanted to go back to Keith. He bit his lip to stop himself from talking, and resigned himself to the silence. It was better than the bird making this even worse. 

Soon, she was leaving and one of the horned aliens entered again. They took him by his left arm now, pulling him roughly along. It still hurt, though it had faded to a bone deep ache rather than sharp pains. They reached the cell quick enough, the alien letting Lance back into it. He rubbed at his aching arm, looking at Keith staring back at him.

“Lance,” he said. “I thought they had - “ He cut himself off with a shake of his head. 

Lance wasted no time in throwing himself forward, draping his arms around Keith’s neck. The other boy tensed instantly and Lance pressed his face into the suit covering Keith’s collarbone. “Ohhh my god, Keith,” he whined. “I thought they were gonna sell me, holy shit.” 

Slowly, Keith raised his arms to settle around Lance. 

“I hate this place. I hate the aliens and the stupid bird.” He tightened his grip around Keith, heart thundering against his chest. “I wanna get out of here.” 

Keith’s hands rested on his back. “We’re gonna get out,” he said. “They can’t keep us here. We - We’re  _ Paladins.” _

Lance sighed. He was silent for a few seconds, letting the physical comfort beat back his raging nerves. Then, quietly, he said, “You’re really bad at hugs, y’know. Super awkward.”

Keith huffed, pulling away from him. “ _ You _ hugged  _ me _ ,” he snapped. “Don’t do it again if I’m so bad at it.” 

“I won’t, I won’t.” He paused, a smile gracing his face. “Hey, look. They took that stupid sling off.” He raised his left arm, wiggling his fingers at Keith in a greeting. “Step one to freedom, am I tright?” He could keep up a steady supply of nonsense, enough foolish remarks and bad jokes to keep the worst at bay. Aliens could put them up for sell, but like hell Lance would let either of them actually become less than they were - fuckin’ awesome and kickass Paladins. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The trip through the wormhole was chaotic. Two Lions gone before the wormhole had even closed and no time for any of them to change course and follow. The comms were filled with confusion - demands for explanations, Shiro yelling at Keith and Hunk yelling for Lance. The swirling vortex of the wormhole passed by the Green Lion and Pidge grit her teeth, staring at the Castle in front of her. Was it safe to board the Castle during a wormhole? She didn’t think so. Through the noise of the others, she said, “So, they’re probably not dead.” 

Not the best choice of words.

Hunk immediately squalled, “ _ Probably _ not dead?!” and she winced. 

“I just meant,” she started, “that the Blue lion took most of the hit. Lance should be fine.” 

“ _ Should _ be?” 

“Hunk,” Pidge said, sighing. “Please. Stop repeating only the questionable parts of what I’m saying.” 

“Lance just got hit by a Galra ship,” Hunk said. “He’s gone. My best friend. Gone. In space.” 

Shiro spoke up then. “We’ll get him back. Keith’s fast enough in Red to catch up to him.” He paused. “As much as I wish he hadn’t taken off like that, he does have the best chance at getting Lance.” 

The comms were silent for a few moments. Pidge was digesting what Shiro had said; it was likely the others were as well. Finally, Allura said, “I’m pulling us out of the wormhole now. We’re not as far from the Galra as I’d have liked, but I should start searching for the Red and Blue lions as quickly as possible.” 

“Good idea, Princess,” Coran said. “I can get started on fixing the Castle while you search.” 

It was a good idea, in theory. 

In practice, however… 

The wormhole dissolved within seconds of Allura’s statement. As the Castle drifted back into open space,, the three remaining lions boarded, their Paladins took the elevator up - and, god, what an awkward ride. Too few people, Hunk looked like he’d barf from worry.They stepped out onto the bridge and Shiro strode forward, helmet under his arm, to stand beside Allura. She was still at the Castle’s controls, back to Pidge and Hunk. Shiro laid his hand on her shoulder, speaking softly. 

The galaxy map sprang to life around them. Nothing to signal a lion, though. 

Pidge didn’t have time to look around the holograph or approach Allura or anything, really. Coran had spied her and Hunk and made a beeline to the pair. 

For the first day, they found nothing. Pidge and Hunk were roped into helping Coran fix up the Castle. She had wondered at first if Hunk was going to be able to work at all with his head so full of Lance-related worry but that was unfounded. He worked, alright, but he talked her and Coran half mad while he did it. “What if he’s hurt, though?” he said, hands in the Castle’s machinery. “He’s probably hurt. That was an ion cannon. Awh, man, and Lance is too stubborn to say when he’s hurt. He’ll probably try to act tough and - oh, Pidge, what if they fight? What if Lance picks a fight with Keith and gets hurt worse? What if - ?” 

Coran corrected his hands before Hunk pulled something loose. “They’ll be alright,” he said, patting Hunk on the shoulder. His coat was draped over a control panel near Pidge. “And I’m sure we’ll reach them before too long.” 

Hunk heaved a sigh, shoulders drooping. “I’m just worried.” 

“We know,” Pidge said. She was going through some of the Castle’s tech as fast as she could. “All of us are.” 

Pidge didn’t sleep that night. She stayed up with Coran, fixing the ship in companionable silence that was only broken when they needed something from the other. After hours of Hunk’s nonstop fretting, the silence was welcome. As was being elbow-deep in complicated tech. Left little room for any bad thoughts to settle in. 

The next day, Hunk was stress baking with strange alien ingredients. A tired Princess Allura was standing by the bar, taking whatever he offered and dipping it in goo before eating it. Shiro was by the door to the kitchen when Pidge arrived. She just managed to catch him telling Coran, “She kept looking almost the entire night.” 

Coran was at Allura’s side in an instant. “Princess, you need to rest.” 

She fixed him with a cold-eyed stare that only slightly dimmed by a spot of green goo on one cheek. “We are missing two Paladins, Coran,” she said. “As well as their lions. I will not rest until I’ve found them.” 

“You’ll be no good to them if you’re dead on your feet,” he countered. 

It took several minutes longer for Coran to drag Allura from the kitchen. Shiro sighed as they left, running his flesh hand over his face. Pidge glanced at him, then at Hunk. “Did anyone in this place sleep last night?” she asked. 

“Couple hours,” Shiro muttered. 

“I slept,” Hunk said from behind the counter, “but not well.” 

Pidge blinked. Nodded. “You got coffee?” she asked. 

Hunk smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes at all. “How do you think I’m standing, Pidge?” 

She returned it, knowing her smile looked just as bad as his. “Hook me up, man.” 

A few hours later - or vargas, according to all the clocks in the ship - Allura was back at the controls. This time, Pidge navigated through the planets with flicks of her fingers, shoving past them as Allura searched. Shiro was sitting in his seat, head in his hand, fast asleep. Coran was tinkering under the panel up front, and Hunk had been in the lounge last Pidge saw him. She had left him there, passed out and snoring, and hoped he hadn’t woken up. God knew someone else in this ship should sleep.

Coran and herself may both be operating purely on alien coffee. They had a kind of silent acknowledgement to not tell the others. 

Pidge lost track of the time she spent wandering through the galactic map. She examined interesting looking planets with dazed eyes before dismissing them, pulling others to her. It was long enough that when something did happen, it shocked her to full alertness instantly. 

Two things, actually.

First, Coran shouted, “I’ve done it!” and slammed his hand on the control panel. Shiro snorted in his seat, jolting and nearly crashing to the floor. “The Castle’s repaired once more.” 

Then the blank viewports of the ship melted away to show the space behind them. The lights flickered on before dimming to the appropriate level for the map’s projection. It left her temporarily blind and Pidge grunted, rubbing at her eyes and pushing the glasses further up on her head.

Lastly, and most important, Allura straightened up with a grin. “Found them!” she said. Her voice carried through the entire bridge. The galaxy map swirled around her before centering on one planet, enlarging it. An icon popped up, the Red lion in the center of it. “It’s on the edge of Galra controlled space. We don’t even have a name for it.” 

All four of them stared at it for a few seconds. 

Shiro broke the silence. “You said ‘them’. If that’s just Red, where’s the Blue lion?” 

Allura was grinning and it didn’t fade when she looked at him. “I suspect it may be offline still. If the hit it took was powerful enough, the Blue lion may be in need of repairs rather than just a reboot of its system.” 

The technology for the lions never ceased to amaze. “I’ll fix it,” Pidge said instantly. She swayed before blinking and standing ramrod straight. “Or help fix it. Just let me see it.” Like hell anyone would be fixing a lion of Voltron without her there to see it happen. 

“I will never say no to your help, number five,” Coran said with a grin. 

Allura ordered them back to their places then. “I’m going to wormhole to the system immediately,” she said. No one argued. The wormhole sprang to life in front of them quickly, Allura guiding them through. 

Pidge’s excitement was nearly palpable. Practically two quintants of looking and they were lucky enough to find the Red lion - and it was close enough for its signal to be picked up. The wormhole spat them out in a system colored by a nebula stretching around the far side. The Castle was close to a gas giant, but headed toward a greener one further in. That’s where the lions were. 

She was out of her seat in seconds, sprinting for the elevator. “I’m getting Hunk,” she called over her shoulder.

Before the doors closed, Shiro yelled back, “Get in your armor!”

Done and done. She swung by the lounge first, shaking Hunk and then jumping on him when he wouldn’t wake up, yelling, “We found ‘em, get up!” right in his face when his eyes opened. He was on his feet in seconds, carrying her back to the elevator. From there, Pidge took a detour back to where she had ditched her armor the day before. Hunk disappeared as well. 

Another elevator ride to the hangers and Pidge was jumping into the Green lion’s pilot seat with more energy than she should have had. Hunk was in her comms already, absolutely delighted to have their missing friends back soon. Pidge was grinning. 

“Alright, guys,” Shiro was saying. “Let’s make this quick. Lance will probably need a healing pod so we need to get him and Keith back as soon as possible.” 

The planet was pulling up fast. “Why isn’t Keith coming to meet us?” Pidge said. “You don’t think something happened to Red, do you?”

Allura spoke over their comms. “Actually, Pidge, there is a destroyed Galra cruiser in this planet’s orbit. He may have fought it.” 

“Oh.” She pushed Green to go just a nudge faster at that. 

“We’ll have to tow them back, won’t we?” Hunk said. 

“Probably,” Shiro said. 

Pidge was about to reply but it trailed off as Green displayed a zoomed in display from the planet below them. Thick forest, huge trees, and a massive crater. In the middle of it was the unmistakable form of the Blue lion. The excitement and relief she had felt was ebbing away slowly at the sight of the lion lying on the ground like that. “Did you guys see this?” she asked. 

A silent moment before both of them confirmed that, yes, their lions were showing the same. 

Shiro said, “You guys go check it out. I’ve got a visual on Red.” He paused. The surface of the planet drew ever closer. “Red’s barrier is up.” 

“We’ll come in closer,” Coran said. “Make it a bit easier to get her back on board.” 

With that, Pidge and Hunk pulled away from Shiro, aiming for the crater and Blue’s dormant form. She landed Green near Blue’s front paws. The Yellow lion hit the ground closer to the tree line. Pidge disembarked, meeting Hunk by the lion’s mouth. She tilted her head, looking inside. Hunk mirrored her on the other side. 

“That looks like it’s been opened,” she said, pointing to the door within the lion’s mouth. “Right?”

“Yep.” He looked from the door to Pidge and added, “Too small for me, though.” 

She nodded. “Right. Goin’ in, then.” She climbed over Blue’s teeth, skidding on the angled floor as she made her way to the doorway. “How’s Red look?” she asked as she moved. 

Shiro’s response was just two words: “Not good.” 

Pidge mouth thinned into a grim line. Blue was entirely dark inside, the only light coming from the forced open door. She turned on the flashlight on her armor, stumbled on the floor again, and slammed her other hand on the wall. Slowly, she turned the light over the cockpit, heart sinking and apprehension weedling in her spine. “Blue’s empty,” she said. 

She heard Hunk from the comms and behind her. “What? Are you sure?” 

“Pretty damn sure,” she muttered. “Keith must have gotten him.”  

“Yeah… yeah, that makes sense,” Hunk said. “Course he did. He was here first, after all.” 

She was examining the control panels now. Nothing was on, no signs of any really bad struggle. Then her gaze landed on something. She reached forward with the hand the flashlight was attached to, holding the pilot’s seat with the other. The light skittered off, strange shadows guiding her hand in. “Found something,” she said, pulling hard. It detached in her hand and she brought it up to her face. “Lance’s bayard is still here.” 

“They didn’t take the bayard?” Allura asked. “Why?”

She had no answer for that. Pidge left Blue then, flashlight off and footsteps careful. The empty lion was harrowing in a way she didn’t think the lions could be. Lance’s absence was making her nervous and Shiro’s silence wasn’t helping. “Shiro? What’s happening with you?” 

When he didn’t respond immediately, Pidge looked at Hunk in quiet, growing alarm. Her question was repeated by Allura. 

Another beat passed, and then - “Tow Blue to the Castle,” he said. “I’m bringing Red.” 

Nothing about this felt right. Pidge’s mind whirled, trying to pinpoint what had gone wrong on Shiro’s end and only settling on one thing. If he had found them, he would have said so. She ignored it, clinging to the hope that they were with him, just hurt. She headed back to her lion with heavy feet, frowning.

Hunk walked beside her, pulling away to head for the Yellow lion. And then he stopped abruptly, looking down at his foot. “Aw,” he said. “Did I step on a bug or something? It crunched, like - oh. Oh.” 

“Hunk?” Pidge rushed over, still clutching the blue bayard tightly. “What is it?” 

He leaned down, straightening up and shaking dirt off a slightly dented red bayard. “So. This is totally Keith’s.” 

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s… that’s his.” Definitely not good. Two Paladins without their weapons. Shiro’s silence. She took a deep breath, throat suddenly tight. “Shiro. Can you confirm that you’ve got them? Lance and Keith are with you, right?” 

Silence. 

“Shiro, please tell me you’ve got them.” 

Finally, he said, “No. I don’t.” 

Pidge’s hands were shaking. How the hell did they lose them? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm of the mind lance likes physical comforts. but, more importantly,
> 
>  
> 
> keith mimed pissing for an alien pass it on


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the galactic slave trade, please enjoy your stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added tags cause i thought why not clarify things??  
> also i've got over 70 pages written and there's so very little progress with the boys i give up its some kind of slowish burn i guess

Aliens were walking past their cell in a single file line. Various species, various builds and shapes, skin colors, some had feathers, others fur or scales - and every single one of them had a pair of silver cuffs around their wrists. 

It hadn’t been that long since Lance had come back from the medbay, maybe an hour or two. It was hard to tell exactly. He and Keith were watching the line and waiting in silence for someone to come for them. Dread was heavy in Lance’s stomach. He sat against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest; he had been flexing his left arm before catching sight of the aliens, trying to rid himself of the ache still there. Now, he was leaning forward to peer around Keith with narrowed eyes. 

Keith had noticed them first. He was sitting with his back to Lance, staring out of their cell. He had jabbed Lance with an elbow and said, “I think it’s starting.”

“What is?” Lance had asked. 

“You know what.” 

He did. These were the aliens that he’d passed earlier, the ones locked up just like them. Easy to figure out they were being sold just like he and Keith were - he just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. 

Neither one of them spoke. Lance could feel Keith’s breathing from where his arm pressed against the other’s back. As they watched, one of the white-horned aliens walked alongside the cuffed ones, gesturing them along. The horned alien’s mouth was moving, fangs glinting in the lights. The tail end of the aliens started past, and another horned alien was stopping before their cell. 

Lance broke the silence immediately. “Hey,” he said. His heart was his throat. “Sticking together, right?” 

Keith looked over his shoulder. His brows were furrowed, eyes clouded with anger and fear. “You got it,” he said. When he turned back to face the barrier, he stood. “Any alien tries to buy me without you and I’ll kill them.” 

That actually calmed Lance down a bit. He rose along with Keith and clapped a hand to Keith’s shoulder. “Same, buddy. You went through way too much to get me back.” 

“Worst decision of my life,” Keith said. “Should’ve left you alone.”

“Okay, I know you’re joking, but, ow. Seriously.” 

The barrier was falling. Keith tossed him a small smile - one that Lance was fucking grateful for; Keith smiling at him was rare, okay? - and then faced the alien with a stony expression. The alien didn’t speak at first. They paused, pulled a pair of handcuffs off their belt, and stepped up for Keith. Another pair glinted at their waist. Lance swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shove the alien away as they took Keith’s hands and slapped the cuffs around his wrists. Angry blue light circled around the cuffs as the metal ends clicked together. 

The alien said, “Get in line,” to Keith. They gripped him at the elbow, shoving him toward the cell’s exit. Keith stopped where the barrier should have been, turning back, eyes settling on Lance. 

Lance held his gaze as the other pair of cuffs were secured to his wrists. They were heavier than they looked, locked together by a chain only three links long. The alien grasped him as well, turning to see Keith. Their sigh sounded like a growl, but it was void of anger. “Or wait for your pal,” they muttered, more to themselves than to Keith or Lance. “That works too.” They were marching forward with Lance still held in one hand, and Keith only moved after the alien shoved him in the back. “Get moving, kid,” they said. “I don’t get paid enough to herd your type.” 

“His type?” Lance seriously could not stop himself from talking. He could practically see Keith rolling his eyes.”What’s that supposed to mean?” 

The alien didn’t answer. He let both of them go as they passed the next cell.

There was another alien a few feet ahead, one that resembled the bird who had handled Lance in the medbay. This one had intricate blue marks surrounding its eyes and beads in its head feathers. “It means you are unbroken,” the alien said in a lilting voice. “Though you won’t be for long.” 

Lance frowned as he walked past. Keith was muttering curses ahead of him. “Those bird aliens are such pricks,” he whispered, leaning closer to his friend. 

“Lance,” Keith said. “Can you be quiet for once?” 

“Sorry. Not possible. I’m nervous.” 

Keith sighed. He kept his head tall while he walked, seemingly paying no mind to the aliens before them or the ones gathering behind them or the ones that guided them along. No matter how he tried not to, Lance ended up talking nearly the entire time they walked. He knew Keith probably wasn’t listening, but if he let the silence go on, he was going to drive himself insane. He talked about the horned aliens and how all of them looked the same - “Do they have sexes? What if the whole race is just unisex? How would they reproduce? Man, that sounds like something I should totally talk to Hunk about.” He pointed out when they passed through what was obviously an airlock, asking Keith if he thought they were in a ship the whole time. 

When the outer airlock doors slid open, Lance’s eyes widened briefly. The sheer expanse of space after the cramped cell was amazing, the huge open area consisting of docks for ships and a wide floor covered in aliens wandering to and fro. The only drawback was the purple bars that stretched from floor to ceiling and separated them. “Aw, man,” Lance said quietly. “I wanna explore this place.” 

Keith didn’t answer, of course.

Lance gave him some peace for a while, taking in as much as their surrounding as he could. A space station, definitely. He couldn’t see past the heavy hanger doors behind the ships, but there were gates in a huge wall to their left - only one within the bars they were behind. Aliens were drifting close by, peering in at them. Lance looked from a small child to a large, hefty looking male; he resembled the Galra, if Galra had fur of varying pinks and grays. Maybe some kind of Galra cousin? Lance stared openly. The alien glared at him. 

His ogling ended much faster than he cared for. 

Behind the gate they were led through was just a hallway. A long, empty, boring hall. Lance asked Keith what he thought of the station, if he was hungry - because Lance sure was, what he thought this place even did. A flurry of questions that went unanswered and didn’t stop until Keith spoke to him in a strained voice. “Lance, please,” he said. “You’re giving me a headache.” 

Lance shut his mouth instantly. A moment later, he whispered, “Sorry,” and tried to distract himself from the reality of their situation. It worked, for a while. He thought about Blue and how he’d spend free time in the Castle cleaning her up; he reminisced briefly about home cooked meals but scrambled for another train of thought when the meals because the beach and home became too painful to picture. He tried to think about Hunk and Pidge and what they might be up to, but that was too painful as well.

So instead, Lance glanced at Keith’s shaggy head in front of him and tried to picture him with shorter hair. It was a weird exercise but a hell of a distraction, even if all he came up with was ‘marginally better, but still not good enough.’ 

The trail of aliens was stopped at another door after going up a flight of stairs and being led down another long, boring hallway. Lance had long since stopped thinking of anything in particular. He trained his eyes on the ceiling and let his mind drift until one of the horned aliens up ahead spoke up loudly. “Pay attention,” the alien was saying. “You’ll only be told this once. You’re going out there one at a time and you will behave for the clients. Not a word out of any of you past those doors.” They paused, looked at the other alien beside them, and continued. “To make it painfully clear: You are here to be sold. No one out there cares who you are or what you did before. You are property.” 

Lance’s expression hardened. In front of him, Keith’s shoulders had tensed. He raised his cuffed hands, resting his hands between the other boy’s shoulder blades. Keith jumped slightly, but didn’t push him off or move away. Good enough. 

The doors opened and the first alien was unceremoniously shoved out. 

“One by one,” Lance whispered to Keith. “That alien said one by one.” 

Keith didn’t say anything. 

“I’m going with you,” Lance said. “They’ll have to knock me out or something, I don’t care. I’m not leaving you, man.” If he did, he’d probably lose it. 

“Go first,” Keith said suddenly. He turned, Lance’s hands sliding from his back to his shoulder. At Lance’s blank expression, he added, “Switch places with me. You go out first. I’ll follow.” 

Lance frowned. “What, you think I can’t follow you?” 

“That’s not it.” 

“I can totally get past two guards,” Lance said. 

“Lance.” 

“Fuck you, Keith. You go first.” 

Keith made a face somewhere between irritation and confusion. He sighed, shifting his weight. “Fine. Whatever. Just... move fast.” 

Lance let his hands slide down Keith’s arm, wrapping his fingers around the other’s arm beneath his elbow. “No worries, man. I’m super fast. Like a ninja.” The alien behind him was grumbling something that sounded insulting. He ignored it, giving Keith the brightest smile he could muster. He hadn’t forgotten: he was going to stay a jokester and keep the worst from getting to them. “Those guys won’t even touch me. Gonna slip through their hands like - like a cloud or something.”

Keith frowned. He tilted his head a bit. “A cloud?” 

“Clouds are water vapor! You can’t hold vapor. It’s a perfectly fine analogy, shut up.” 

The line had been moving slowly while they talked. Two, maybe three aliens out. There were a lot between Keith and the door, a lot to go through. Still, it passed by much too fast. Lance kept up a steady conversation with Keith, one that had long since lost any real purpose. Talk for the sake of talk. Talk for the sake of distracting himself. His hands were too tight where he held onto Keith, though, and he couldn’t make himself let go. Not yet. But then Keith was facing the doors and the alien guards beside it and Lance’s breath stuck in his throat. He clung to Keith tight enough that Keith shot him a look. Lance shook his head minutely, glancing from one guard to the next; they had a device in their ears that reminded him of bluetooths. Hands free communication.

Waiting for them to push Keith through the door was the longest minutes of his life. 

The guard on the right was regarding them with a curious gaze. Lance met the alien’s eyes, and then the guard on the left was forcibly pulling him away from Keith. He squeaked - a noise he would never, ever admit to making - and squirmed in the alien’s grip. “Wait!” 

The other alien was pushing the door open, their hand on Keith’s shoulder to move the line along.

“No! Keith!” This damn alien had a strong grip and Lance was struggling, putting up a fight. One foot collided with the alien behind him, the other with the knee of the one holding him back. His heart was pounding, eyes on Keith and only Keith. “Let me go!” 

“Help me out here?” the alien grunted, their arms slipping as Lance kicked at them again. “He’s stronger than he looks.” 

The other guard let go of Keith and stepped forward.

And Keith immediately stopped in the doorframe, turning back to face Lance. While the guards were distracted, he dropped, sweeping a leg under one of the alien’s legs. It didn’t quite fall, but it stumbled and by the time it righted itself, Keith was swinging his cuffed wrists over his head and into the face of the one holding Lance. The alien grunted and its arms loosened. It was more likely the alien was shocked anyone would fight back rather than Keith being that strong - but Lance preferred the think it was the latter. 

He pulled out of the alien’s grip, tripping over his own feet as he did. Still made it out the door with Keith beside him. The aliens yelled behind them, and Lance slammed the door shut with his back. 

For a brief moment, it felt like they had won something. 

Until Lance met the wide-eyed gaze of another alien in front of him. This one was more humanoid, clearly a woman, with long bright red hair that was braided down her back. She had scales down her cheeks, antenna poking out of her hair, and wore a black and green uniform with lots of buckles. There was a tablet in her hands, one of those hands free devices glinting in her ears.. “What the fuck,” she muttered. Her voice was weird, undulating in a way that threatened to give a headache if she spoke too much. “Supposed to be one.”

Keith scoffed. “Sorry,” he said. “I decided not to leave my friend with your pals.”

Lance added, helpfully, “He’s not sorry.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “They are not my pals,” she said. “They are pirates. We don’t associate with their kind. They are scum.” 

“You’re literally selling people,” Keith said. 

She looked away from them and behind her, where steps led up to a platform. She made no move that she had even heard Keith speak. “Right. Garrox needs the next one.” She consulted her tablet, looked between the two of them, and then back down at the device in her hands. “Okay… Which one of you is supposed to be half Galran?” 

Keith huffed a breath through his teeth. “I am.” 

Lance didn’t even time to blink before the woman had Keith by the arm, pulling him up the steps. “You wait here,” she said to Lance. She didn’t even turn to look at him. He was momentarily distracted by delicate, glittering wings sticking out from her shoulders and folding down her back. Then he was jolting forward, jogging up the steps after them. 

Keith had only been on stage for two seconds before Lance was standing beside him. 

The woman was behind them both now, cursing. She said, “Oh, for the love of- “ followed by a serious of strange wavering sounds that weren’t translated. Alien curse words, he guessed. 

He wasn’t paying much attention to her anyway. There was an alien on stage with them, and Lance automatically assumed it was the one she had named, Garrox. He wore an identical uniform, only his was gold and black. Instead of the hands free device, a headset was wrapped around his head. He was a Galra. Big fluffy ears and bright yellow eyes. He was looking from Keith to Lance and back again with a puzzled face.

Past him, there was a crowd. Keith was standing frozen beside him and Lance knew it was at the sight of all these aliens, sitting calmly and stretching to fill a huge room. An elaborate light hung from the ceiling, turning slowly by unseen ways. The walls were a deep tan, decked with long banners of various colors. A set of symbols marked all three walls he could see; heavy doors stood open in the very back, and another smaller door was directly to the right of the stage. It was a stage, that was clear.

This was a stage to show off slaves before this damn Galra passed them off to the highest bidder.

A sudden surge of anger coursed through him. Lance turned his gaze back to Garrox, scowling. “Not surprised a Galra’s running a slave ring,” he said.

He was aware of the sudden jolt of shock over Keith’s face. And of the look thrown his way. Right. Keith was part Galra. 

Garrox’s puzzled expression faded. He shook his head slowly, then turned on his heels back to the crowd. As soon as his back was turned, Lance whispered, “Y’know I don’t mean you, right? Like, you’re Galra, but not... not a bad one?”

“Right. Whatever.” Keith was facing front again, eyes hard.

Lance frowned. He didn’t have time to say anything else because Garrox was speaking again, in a loud, booming voice. 

“Apologies,” he said. “This has never happened before, not once in Alton Orbital’s long years.” He spread one arm out at the pair of them. “Regrettably, I will have their prices adjusted for it’s clear that these two are unbroken. Disruptive, even.” A smattering of hushed murmurs from the crowd. “But I will say that to come up here together shows courage from them. Each of their records lists them as strong, trained, and capable fighters.” 

All words Lance would have loved to be described with. Right now, from this Galra’s mouth, it made him sick to his stomach. These weren’t compliments. This was a speech engineered to talk them up, to make them seem desirable, win the trade more money. 

Garrox was striding over to Keith, slapping a hand hard on one shoulder. “First!” he said, a grin showing his fangs. “We have this one. He’s small, but I’ve been assured the blood of the mighty Galra race runs in his veins.” He shook Keith, ignoring the glare sent his way, before stepping away. “His handlers have described him as fierce, protective, and” -he chuckled- “a difficult one to handle. Many of you may turn away from owning someone like him - “

Keith’s face contorted instantly into a snarl. 

“ - but those at Zeta, I believe, are intrigued. And if you aren’t, then you should be.” He made a motion behind him, and then the woman was stepping forward to the front of the stage. She was pulling something up on her tablet, and in seconds a holographic display shot to life directly above the stage. Lance took a couple steps back, craning his neck to see. 

It was footage of Keith in their cell. Lance could see himself passed out on the other cot, but the focus was clearly Keith, stepping forward into the bird’s path, his hands clenched. He raised a fist and swung, hitting the bird square in the beak. He rushed her, shoving her back, mouth moving - there was no sound, so there was no telling what he said. Lance glanced at Keith, who was glaring down at the crowd as if daring any of them to even move in his direction. 

Back on the display, Keith ducked to avoid another alien trying to grab him. He was halfway out the cell, dodging attacks as he shoved back against aliens. The footage cut when two of the horned aliens finally caught him, pulling him aside to make way for the bird. 

The screen blinked out and Garrox resumed talking. “As you can see,” he said, his voice smug. “He has a fighting spirit.” His grin was wide. “Fights like a Galra, doesn’t he?” He paused for the crowd to talk amongst themselves before picking up again. “Now, usually, I’d take bids here. But, seeing as this is a unusual circumstance, I’d like to show you the other one first.” He walked in front of them, stopping beside Lance. He didn’t move to touch Lance, and damn if Lance wasn’t glad of that. 

“A rarity here on Alton,” he said, “this one is full blooded Earthling. I know, I know - many of you have not heard of the planet Earth. It’s far away from here, its people are primitive and have not yet achieved galactic travel. But they are strong, adaptable, resilient. You have my word that this one can withstand nearly anything. Why, he was captured injured! Some of you would be on your deathbeds if you endured what he has, yet here he stands, no worse for wear.” He turned to give Lance a once over and then flashed a brilliant grin at the crowd. “I’ve been told he’s in great health, strong. Unfortunately, he does have a bad habit of talking too much but that can be changed with the correct ways.” 

He made a motion at the woman again and the holographic display was back. A still image of the medbay hung overhead. Lance saw himself lying on the table.

Oh. Now, this caught Lance’s attention. Was this what those aliens before had been talking about?

“While he was easy for his handlers to care for,” Garrox said, “we have obtained this footage that shows him to be quite a fighter even when unprovoked.”

The Lance on the holograph still wore his Paladin armor. The picture started moving, jumping to a scene where aliens gathered around him. The bird stood by a table, handling a sharp tool. Two horned aliens were peeling armor off of Lance bit-by-bit. One of them removed the armor from his wounded left arm, the other was at his back pushing him up so they could get at the chest piece.

He couldn’t see when on-screen Lance’s eyes opened, but suddenly he was swinging out with his right arm. A wild hit struck one of the horned aliens, a piece of armor tumbling out of their hands. Lance watched footage of himself that he didn’t remember happening, watched himself sit up. He launched himself forward, tackling the horned alien at the waist and then the footage jumped forward. Lance, on the alien’s chest, grasping its horns with both hands. Lance being pulled off by the other one. Lance grabbing at a table with his wounded arm, his expression of pain visible even as he plunged the sharp end of some tool into the alien holding him. It released him instantly.

Lance blinked at the footage. He couldn’t remember ever being that violent, that frantic, in the way he fought. He watched himself be snagged by the aliens again, watch himself struggle. He was aiming kicks at the bird as she approached. A table was upended by one foot, and he slipped from the alien’s grasp to the floor, scrambling backwards.

No wonder the whole footage looked off. Lance dropped his gaze to the crowd, then to his feet. Despite not remembering it, he could get a feel of what had happened. He’d woken up surrounded by unfamiliar aliens, in an unfamiliar place, and panicked. That wasn’t Lance acting in his right mind. That was Lance terrified and trying to escape. He was being sold based on his own fear. Somehow, that made it worse. 

Garrox was speaking again. The holograph must have been turned off. “I wouldn’t underestimate this one,” he said. “Especially not if you’re prone to leaving sharp objects around.”

The absurdity of that being directed at Lance when Keith - stab-happy, knife-wielding Keith - was standing right beside him almost made him laugh.

The crowd certainly was laughing though, low and rippling like a river. 

“Let’s start the bidding!” Garrox announced, clapping his hands together. He gestured at each of them in turn, reciting their base prices that had been set. “For the half-Galra, fifteen thousand. For our Earthling, ten thousand. And I believe I promised a reduction…” He paused, glancing around the crowd. “Let’s cut off a thousand for each, hm? Start at fourteen and nine respectively.” 

The bidding took off immediately. It didn’t feel real, an eerie feeling of a dream settling over it. Lance looked around the room, trying to spot the aliens who called out numbers. They raised hands for bids - or what passed as hands, some alien had a fucking tentacle - and Garrox parroted them out. Sixteen for Keith. Then eighteen. Twenty.

Garrox waved a hand to quiet them, gestured at Lance, called for bids again. Lance shot a look at Keith while numbers rose around them. This was unreal. 

Lance was back up to ten, twelve, tied with Keith at twenty.

And then it was scattered, numbers rolling in for them both. They swam through Lance’s head and vanished, never settling. He wouldn’t let it, couldn’t keep track of what the numbers meant, too afraid that the quality that made this so dreamlike would snap if he did. 

Twenty-five. Who was that for? Twenty-two for another. That was probably him. Keith was more desirable. One of them got thirty, thirty-three, thirty-five. 

Then an alien stood. Garrox stopped throwing numbers, focusing on the one in the crowd. “Fifty thousand,” the alien said in a croaking voice. “For both.” Whispers spread through the other aliens at that, and Garrox barked out a short laugh. 

Beside Lance, Keith let out a long breath. He was looking back when Lance turned his gaze to him. Keith nodded once. They were going to be sold together, they had said. Well. Looked like that was possible. 

Another alien called out, “Sixty for both.”

At least he’d be with Keith. Wouldn’t have to cause a scene to find him. 

The numbers rising now were for the pair of them, together. Climbed to eighty, ninety, one hundred thousand. And then an alien rose near the back of the room. From this distance, all Lance could make out was that it was enormous. “Two hundred thousand,” it said in a deep, deep voice. “And I get the pair, along with whatever they were brought in with.” 

Garrox was practically beaming. “Excellent!” He called for others, and when none came, his large hands were clapped together again. “Sold.” 

The word echoed through Lance’s head. Suddenly, he felt faint. 

“Marita,” Garrox was saying, “escort them away.” The woman came forward and as she gestured for them to follow her, Garrox’s final words for the crowd rang out: “I hope Zeta enjoys their new toys.” 

✦✦✦✦✦

The red haired alien, Marita, led them into a hall lined with doors on both sides. She let them into a room near the end of it, slammed the door in Lance’s face when he asked about the handcuffs, and they were alone again. There was a bench along one side and Keith took a seat, gazing at the cuffs still tight around his wrists. Like the cell before it, the room was small and cramped and it was impossible to forget where they were. Other than the bench, the only thing of interest was a window installed on the wall opposite the door. Lance was peering through it, his hands on the glass. 

It was quiet for now, a relief after Lance’s constant chatter the entire way here. Keith took the opportunity to try and calm himself. He was pissed at everything right now, and while he really wanted to use his anger to fight his way out of this, there were problems with that. Most obvious was that he remained cuffed. He also had no weapon, no armor, no escape plan. And, there was Lance. 

Stupid, idiot Lance who would need a gun. 

Keith glanced toward the other boy, gaze lingering on the glint of light from the cuffs. Later, he assured himself. Later, he and Lance could fight their way out of this. For now, he forced himself to take slow breaths, trying to ease his racing heart rate down. He searched his mind for something else to focus on but all that would come to mind was escaping or surviving until the others found them or if Lance was fully healed or not.

He hadn’t realized he was staring until Lance was looking back at him. “What’re you lookin’ at?” Lance said. 

“Nothing.” He turned his head from Lance, staring purposefully at the wall in front of him. 

“Right. Come here, then. You can see this huge building and I’m tryin’ to figure out what it is.” When he didn’t move, Lance came to get him, grasping Keith by one of his arms and pulling him over. “Right there,” Lance said. He had both his hands on the glass again, both index fingers pointing to the same thing. There really wasn’t another way to point comfortably, the links between the cuffs too short.

Keith glanced at Lance’s hands, then up to his face and the curious expression there. It was marred by the darkness of his eyes, the way his brow was still furrowed. 

“The hell is that thing?” he said, and Keith finally turned to the window. 

It was definitely big. The building towered over everything around it, stealing Keith’s gaze before he even had a chance to look at anything else. He swept his eyes over what else he could see - a wide open area, some kind of monument in the center; shops and various smaller buildings; aliens walking in every direction, small hovercrafts crossing over everything. Inevitably, he found himself considering the building Lance had pointed out. 

The window had them looking at it from an angle. A glittering neon sign hung from its front but the alien script was impossible to decipher. The building rose two or three stories up before its ceiling curved to make a dome. There were towers on the front corners, a string of lights connecting them and shining multicolored spots down at its entrance. Aliens were entering it at a fair pace, a steady flow of them. 

Lance said, “Looks kinda like a stadium.”

Keith said, “Yeah. I guess.” 

“What would aliens be doing with a stadium? Alien sports?” 

Another voice cut in and Keith whirled around; beside him, Lance jumped. “That would be Arena Zeta.” Before them, the alien that had paid for them stood in the doorway. Up close, his grey skin was mottled with black flecks and spots. Small horns jutted from above his eyes. He was huge - maybe eight feet tall with a large frame and muscles that were exposed due to the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. He looked as if he was built out of rocks. “That is where you two are going to live and fight.”

Lance spoke first. “Fight? Like… fight-fight?”

The alien was grinning. Despite his fearsome size, his teeth were flat. “Zeta’s a gladiator arena, kid. Every soul that ends up there is there to fight for entertainment.”

Keith was frowning. Any progress he’d made toward calming himself was gone in an instant. “I’m not fighting for you,” he spat. “And neither is Lance.”

“I’m not?” 

Keith shot him a glare.

Lance blinked, nodded. “Right! Yeah! Neither am I.”

The alien’s grin didn’t fade. “New fighters,” he said, “always say that. And they always fight.” He gave each of them a lasting look before continuing. “I paid a lot for you two. I expect a damn good show and a lot of wins. Don’t disappoint me.” Then he was gone, door shutting behind his heavy footsteps. 

The silence that he left in his wake was filled with Keith’s writhing anger. 

Beside him, Lance said, “Yeah, so… I don’t know about you, but I’m just glad he’s not gonna probe us.” 

Keith’s anger faltered. He fixed Lance with a blank stare. “What?” 

“Oh, y’know,” Lance said, shrugging. “Aliens are always probin’ humans.”

“Wow.” 

“It’s true.”

Neither turned to look back out the window. The allure of the building was lost now they knew what it was, what they were meant to do there. They waited in silence until someone came to get them - not the alien who bought them, not the horned aliens from the ship or the red-haired Marita, but a pair of aliens wearing armor over black and grey suits. Each held a rifle and wore a helmet that covered their faces. The aliens escorted them out of the room and through a door at the end of the hall, Keith and Lance between them. 

They walked down a short flight of stairs and into what was undoubtedly an alleyway. Pipes were attached to the buildings on either side of them, vents set deep in the floor beneath their feet. They walked until the arena was mounting tall before them, and then the aliens led them through a back doorway. Down another hall and a flight of stairs, past an open archway that led into a cafeteria. A sharp right from there, and then the aliens led them into a sizable room.

There, the cuffs were finally removed. Keith watched one of these aliens - a guard, he thought - pull the heavy cuffs off his wrists. He rubbed at them, squeezed his hands into fists and relaxed them again. He looked over to see Lance’s cuffs being removed as well, and then he jumped at the guard before him. 

The alien yelled out, “Got another one!” over its shoulder.

Before he could think on what that meant, Keith was trying to land a hit on any spot of exposed skin. There wasn’t much. Parts of the forearms, a small bit of neck. He heard Lance call his name, but the anger he felt was too much, pouring out in the need to fight and get out. 

They had been sold. Handled and talked down to like property. Expected to fight for someone else’s entertainment. Keith was pissed. And beneath it all, he was scared to death of what was happening. It had been eating at him since the aliens had come into their cells for Lance again - fear that the one thing he had to hold onto would be gone, fear that they’d do something horrible, that he’d lose Lance to this place. 

It pounded in his heart as steady as the anger that masked it. There was no easy way out. There were no lions, no teammates, no Castle. Anything he had become accustomed to was gone - hell, he didn’t even have a sword. 

Other guards had filed into the room. The one he had attacked had leveled it’s rifle at him. “Stand down,” it ordered. Keith was panting, though he hadn’t done enough to warrant it. He looked through the aliens gathered there in growing panic, then behind him.

Lance was standing with his hands up, staring down the barrel of another alien’s gun. After a moment’s hesitation, Keith backed away from the guard, steps taking him to Lance’s side. He stared at the floor, just now noticing that it was hardened dirt packed tight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gun held to Lance lower, and another second later, Lance laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Keith glanced his way, looking through hair falling in his eyes. Caught his gaze. Lance was staring at him with wide eyes, face drawn. Despite that, he managed a smile and said, “Don’t think you can fight all of them, man.” His hand slid over to Keith’s back, resting between his shoulder blades. “Save it for when it matters.” Lance’s eyes were heavy, imploring - like he was trying to say something without words.

He had better mean save the fighting for when they got out, because if Lance was making a reference to the arena, Keith was going to kill him. 

A commotion at the doorway drew Keith’s attention. He saw the extra guards leaving and, coming in after them, the very alien that had bought them. He glared. The alien smiled. “Heard you tried picking a fight,” he said, eyes on Keith. “That’s good. I want to see what you and your friend here can do.” He walked through the room and Keith kept his eyes on him the entire time. There was a door on the opposite side that Keith had missed earlier, and it was through there the alien went.

Then the wall to his right was losing its color and melting into transparency. A window, showing the large alien behind it. He stood before a raised panel of holographic screens. As Keith watched, he reached forward to touch one. His voice, filtering through an unseen speaker: “First things first. My name is Avilus. You belong to me and I’m not afraid to beat that attitude out of you.” 

Keith exchanged a glance with Lance. 

The guards were backing up to the doorway. 

“Now,” the alien, Avilus, continued. “I want to see what you’re capable of.” He pressed another screen as he spoke and a section of the floor parted, dirt falling into a gaping hole in chunks. A pedestal was rising, one covered with an assortment of weapons. Knives and swords, an axe far too large for either of them to wield, guns of all kinds from small pistols to an elaborate sniper, strange things that looked painful but he had no words for - alien weapons. Avilus said, “Choose your weapon, boys. You’re going to spar for me.” 

Another shared glance with Lance. The other boy shrugged, ambling forward to peer at the guns. Keith made for the opposite end of the display, reaching for a knife and testing the feel of it in his hand. He tried out three before spinning one in his hand. If he had a belt, he’d have shoved it there for safe keeping. As it was, he set it down again, reaching for the swords and repeating the process - test swings and lunges - until he found the best one. Not perfect, not made to suit him like his bayard, but good. 

On the other end, Lance was examining one of the rifles. When Keith looked at him, Lance hefted it up, looked through the sights at Keith, and made a quiet, ridiculous sound under his breath. A mimic of laser fire. 

Avilus directed them to opposite ends of the room. He said, “Show me what you can do.” 

Simple enough. 

Keith wasn’t fond of orders, especially ones given to him by a smug alien who called himself their owner. But this was familiar, facing down an opponent with a sword in his hand. He could blow off steam this way, attack Lance until the cloud of emotions in his head faded and he could think straight again. He eased into an aggressive stance, sword raised. 

Across from him, Lance had the rifle raised. He looked unsure of what to do. 

Maybe he didn’t want to fight. 

If this were the Castle, Keith could have goaded him into it. Of course, if this were the Castle, Keith would be fighting against a bot. He moved forward, reminding himself that this was Lance - his friend, his ally - and that Lance couldn’t parry with a sword of his own. He’d have to be careful. With that in mind, he struck. A lunge, a sweep of the sword that Lance sidestepped with ease. 

Lance said, “Aw, you’re actually gonna fight me? Damn and I thought we were friends.” He was backing up as he spoke, eyes on Keith, a smile on his face. He lowered the rifle, holding it at his side with one hand. With the other, he covered his heart and sighed. “My heart’s breaking over this. Will we ever be the sa - ow! Hey!” 

Keith may have taken the opportunity to strike for Lance’s legs. Lightly, of course. “Stop talking,” he said, “and fight me.” 

Lance frowned at him, backpedaling as Keith advanced on him. “Fine. You and your stupid sword…” He sidestepped the next swing, and the one after, engaging Keith in a cat-and-mouse game rather than a fight. A couple times, Keith caught him, the blade of the sword scraping over the flightsuit he still wore. Once, he backed away from a wild swing, nearly knocked into a guard - and then Lance had the rifle in his hands aimed at Keith. 

Gunfire. Keith ducked, darting sideways as he did. The bullets thudded into the dirt behind him. He steadied Lance with a challenging stare, and all Lance did was smirk. “Missed you on purpose,” he said. “You can’t dodge a bullet, dude.” 

That was ...probably true. Any time anyone had shot at him, Keith had been in armor and had a shield. Things to deflect the bullets and protect himself. Still, he sprang forward, trying to get Lance to attack again. There was way too much going on in his head, a chorus of what-if situations and fright and anger, all swirling in on itself. Again, Lance danced away, running Keith in circles around the room. It was frustrating to have to chase him; the room provided just enough space for him to pull ahead of Keith’s swings and he was laughing as he dodged it. 

Occasionally, a smatter of gunfire would light up the dirt near Keith’s feet. 

Once - just once - Keith managed to get close enough to swing the sword overhead. He had Lance backed against the wall, the other boy shoving the rifle forward to catch the sword. Surprise was in Lance’s eyes and Keith took a good look at him and grinned smugly. “Don’t need to dodge bullets,” he said, “if I can catch you.” 

Lance’s surprise was gone in a blink. He smirked back at Keith, said, “Don’t get cocky, asshole.” Then there was a foot in Keith’s gut, Lance kicking him back. 

Keith readied himself to pick up the chase again, but then Lance was firing. Several dug into the dirt. Keith moved, and he watched Lance tracking him with the gun. He fired again, aiming right for where Keith was running. Keith couldn’t stop fast enough. Bullets landed along his arm. It hurt more than he thought it would. He grunted, jaw clenched, as he dropped the sword into the dirt. When he reached out to touch where the hits had landed, he winced and snatched his hand back. “What - ?”

“These are real bullets?” Lance said. He was staring at the gun at his hands, slowly raising his head to Keith. “Holy shit, dude. I’m sorry. I just kinda assumed they were blanks or something.” 

Keith didn’t answer. Mostly because he had assumed the same and was staring at Lance in shock. A part of him, however, accepted it immediately. They were forced to fight after being paid for, after being told they’d be fighting in an arena. Of course the bullets were real. 

Lance dropped the gun to the dirt, approaching Keith. “I’m so sorry, man,” he said. He reached out for Keith, then paused, looking from where the bullets had hit then to Keith’s face. 

“Quaint.” 

They both turned their heads. Avilus stood in the doorway again, looking at the two of them with his arms crossed. 

“I believe you were told to fight,” he said, striding over. As he got closer, Lance shifted closed to Keith, glaring at the alien. Avilus paid them no mind, bending down to pick the abandoned rifle up. He examined it before holding it out to Lance. “A good choice of firearm, I have to say. Now, take it back. Continue what you’ve started.” 

Lance stared. 

“I gave you an order,” Avilus continued, “and I expect you to follow it. You were brought here to show me what you’re capable of. While your little avoidance game was fun, I want to see what you can really do. You’ve already started. Finish it.” 

Silence, just for a beat.

Lance said, “No.” 

Avilus frowned. “You don’t get to say ‘no’ to me.” 

“I’m not fighting Keith,” Lance said, louder.

“You will do what I tell you.” 

“I’m not shooting him with live bullets!” 

Avilus shoved the gun at his chest, hard enough that Lance stumbled backwards past Keith. “Fight him. Now.” 

Lance dropped the gun again without breaking eye contact. He flung his hands in the air then, flipping the alien off with both hands.

Keith sighed. Even if the aliens didn’t know what it meant, nothing good was going to come from this. He looked at Lance, waiting for the tension to snap. 

It didn’t so much as snap as shatter. Avilus strode forward with large steps, raised one hand, and slammed it into the side of Lance’s head. The force of it pushed Lance back even further, sent him to the ground. Keith’s breath caught in his throat. On instinct, he started forward, but Avilus turned a fiery glare at him and he froze. He watched Lance sit up in the dirt, a hand raised to his head. 

“I’m not playing games with you, boy,” Avilus said. He was on Lance again in an instant, grabbing the collar of his flightsuit and yanking him to his feet. “You are mine now, do you understand me? Your only purpose is to fight who I tell you to fight. I don’t care if you’re close.” He let go of Lance just to clench one meaty feat into a fist and strike him in the chest. 

Keith could hear the noise he made. A wounded, gasping sort of wheeze. His face was contorted in pain, eyes narrowed against it but still focused on Avilus. He was grasping at his chest now, leaving the angry red mark visible across his face. Keith hadn’t even realized he was trying to move until the guards had him by the arms. The pain from the gunfire burned as they held him back. He called out Lance’s name and that pain-drenched gaze cut to him for a second. 

Lance had the gall to smile at him softly, like this was all okay. Just for a second, before he looked back to the alien and the look vanished. “I’m not,” he said in a weak voice, “going to fight him.” 

The tension in the room was still strong, filled with Avilus’s rage. Keith was sure he would strike again, beat Lance some more, but the alien merely looked between the two of them. After a few seconds, he said, “Let him go.” 

The guards released Keith immediately. He was at Lance’s side in three steps, taking him by the shoulders. “Jesus, you idiot,” he said quietly. “You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

The red mark left on his face was worse this close. Bright and angry, blood peeking from small places where the skin had ripped. Keith raised a hand to it and Lance winced. “Don’t do that.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Keith said.

“You already called me that.” Lance made a face when Keith pressed down on the bleeding mark. “Be more original.” 

Behind them, he heard Avilus moving, his heavy footsteps crossing the room. He said, “Take them to where they’re staying.” Keith ignored it since it wasn’t aimed at them. He concentrated on Lance, on making sure the bleeding didn’t get worse. Even when the guards came to get them, Keith shrugged the hands on him off, telling Lance over and over that he was an idiot, a moron, the stupidest person Keith had ever met. 

Lance was smiling at him, a weak expression. His hand was still over his chest. “Are you worried about me?” he said, laughing as Keith’s only response was a glare. “It’s cool. I’d be pretty worried if an alien punched you too.” 

“I fuckin’ hate you.” 

“Same, dude.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon gay shiro is my lifes blood.
> 
> anyway, more next week hooray pls continue reading ily in totes platonic ways


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> only heathens wear shoes in bed

The guards escorted them down to what could only be described as  _ barracks _ . They went through a lounge, aliens sitting on worn seats, most in bland clothes. A few glanced up but most ignored them. From there a hallway, closed doors on either side, open archways into steamy bathrooms at the end. A stairwell, where a sign in alien script had an arrow pointing straight up. The guards took them down a flight, and then Keith and Lance were standing in a barracks.

The space was large, two walls lined with bunks. Single beds were set up through the middle of the room, seemingly with no pattern to them. Aliens sat scattered on bunks throughout the room, and every single one of them was staring.

The door was shut behind them. 

Keith cast a glance up at Lance to find the other boy staring back at him. “So, this is weird,” Lance said. “Totally weird. Not just me, right?” 

“Not just you,” Keith said. 

The alien closest to them had pale yellow skin and wide eyes. “Free bunks’re down there,” it said, gesturing to the back of the room. “Could be some in the center.” 

Keith stared at it, wondering if he was supposed to reply to that. 

Lance leaned around him. “Sorry, but, uh, what?”

The alien blinked at them. Two sets of eyelids, one after the other. “You’re in here,” it said, irritation clouding its voice. “You get bunks. Find some free ones and lay claim before some other new rats show up.” An arm waved to the back of the room again. “Free ones don’t have blankets. Should be obvious. Now get outta the way, I’m waiting for something.”

Lance shrugged, starting forward into the room. Keith eyed the yellow alien for a while longer - not liking the unimpressed look he got in return - and then set after Lance. They walked, weaving around the beds in the center. Keith scoped out the other aliens; many were thin, but he couldn’t tell if that was from natural builds or malnutrition. A few were muscular. A good amount of them met his gaze, but even more of them glanced up and then looked away. They all wore clothes of shades of browns or blacks, every bed had identical grey sheets and grey blankets. A lot of the bunks Keith thought were empty turned out to be hosting sleeping aliens. Some of them chatted in small groups, a pair they passed with huge eyes and dark skin were playing with cards - neither the game nor the cards looked familiar.

“These look good.” Lance had stopped near the very back of the room. The shadows were stronger here. He was rubbing at his chest again when Keith looked his way. “Whatcha think?” He looked at Keith, grimaced, and dropped his hand. 

“I think they look like crappy bunks,” Keith said, “in a crappy alien barracks.” 

Lance laughed, a weak sound with none of his usual spirit. “Chose it cause top bunk has, like, no light at all.” He pointed up at it, planting his other hand on his hip. “Dunno about you, but this shit has been exhausting. Think a nap would be good.”

Keith was about to reply when an alien on the neighboring bunk rolled over. It’s eyes were on stalks that moved to peer closer. “You stink,” the alien said in a high, weedy voice. “Besides, newbies like you don’t get to rest yet.” 

Lance frowned. “Wow. I know we’ve been locked up a bit, buddy, but don’t be an asshole.” 

“Just givin’ you some tips,” the alien continued.

“That wasn’t a tip, that was an insult.” 

“You’ll want to shower first, then they give you tests, then maybe you can sleep before they toss you into the arena.”

Lance made a face. “Tests? Like what?”

The alien managed to convey a shrug with its eye stalks. “Different for everyone. But you’re gonna get dragged out of here and won’t come back for a while.” 

For a few seconds, Lance was quiet, staring at the alien as he thought. “Yeah….” he said slowly. “I call bullshit. That’s way too vague to be anything but you tryin’ to scare us.” 

Keith sighed. He’d been listening to the back-and-forth, but it was going nowhere fast. He knew well enough by now that if anyone kept needling at Lance, he’d argue for hours. He pushed past where Lance stood, climbing onto the bottom bunk. Lance gave him a curious glance that Keith didn’t return, then snapped back when the strange alien said something else. Keith laid on his back on the uncomfortable bunk, staring up at the one above him, and tried not to hear every word of Lance’s stupid argument. 

It wasn’t working. 

Lance was getting louder, so was the alien, and Keith wanted to scream. He sat up again moments after lying back, aware of other eyes looking their way. “Can you two shut up?” he said.

“Tell Celery here I could kick his ass, and maybe I will,” Lance said.

“...Celery?’

Lance flashed him a brief grin. “Yeah! Cause he’s got eyes like stalks of celery. Get it?” 

Keith flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes with one arm. “You are unbelievable,” he murmured.

“Unbelievably amazing,” Lance said, his voice light. 

“Unbelievably stupid,” the alien added. 

And then the argument started back up. Keith groaned, loudly, and it only mixed in with their noise.

Moments later, the noise cut off without warning. The entire room had quieted at a drop. Keith frowned, moved his arm to look, and then sat up straight. The door had opened again, a guard standing there. The yellow alien at the entrance was already prancing out; three more followed her as the guard called out names. The silence was thick and heavy, all of them watching as the ones called left the room. Other than the first, there was a solemn air to the entire thing.

When the doors shut again, Lance sat down by Keith’s legs. Slowly, his eyes met Keith’s, eyebrows raised. “What,” he said, “was that?” 

Keith shrugged. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The next day, they learned how the arena functioned. There were two floors allocated to the fighters - the one with the barracks, private rooms, and a large kitchen and cafeteria. There were actually two barracks, though if they were divided by gender or some other reason, Keith didn’t know. The cafeteria stood by the barracks, and every other door on the hall led to a private room. There were showers at the end of the hall furthest from the barracks. The upper floor with the lounges, the area Keith and Lance had been led through the previous day, was filled mostly with training rooms. 

The rest of the arena was off limits. Guards were posted near the stairs, at large arched doors that led to the arena itself, and at the end of the hall past the lounge. 

They weren’t allowed into the arena either. Not yet, at least. It was irritating to have so many rules set against them, so little areas to roam. Keith spent most of his time glaring at anyone who dared to even look at him and only had Lance for company. That was fine with him. Lance was more than enough on his own. 

Avilus had pointed all of this out to them. That very first day, after Keith and Lance had indeed been dragged out of the barracks, he had approached them. A guard had dogged his steps. He showed them the kitchens and got them a meal, explaining that his fighters would be kept in good shape and that meant eating. 

Lance had said, “At least it’s better than prison food,” with a goofy grin on his face. 

Keith had frowned at him before eating his own portion. 

Before they had showered, Avilus had waved another alien over - a meek, skinny girl with strange tentacles flowing down her back like hair - and she had given them plain bland outfits to match the others. They were ushered into the showers, flightsuits missing when they left. The new clothes fit, but not too well, and Keith was sure some other alien had worn this at some point. It unnerved him just to wear it. He had taken one look at Lance pulling at the collar of his shirt with a painful expression on his face and had had to hide a snort from Avilus’s keen eyes. 

He had no idea where the flightsuits had been taken.

Avilus had them taken out of the barracks early the next day, and Keith had to deal with a whiny, tired Lance for hours. He complained under his breath during a poor breakfast, pouted and sighed overdramatically during Avilus explaining how the arena’s fights worked, and by the time a weapon was put in Keith’s hand, he wanted to break something. Or someone. Maybe Lance if he was given the chance.

Instead, Avilus pitted them against another pair of aliens. “They’re new,” he said. “Like the two of you.” He fixed Lance with a hard stare while handing him a gun. “I assume you’ll fire at these. They aren’t your friends.” 

Lance took the gun without a word and Avilus took that as agreement. He retreated into the windowed room to observe, and Keith was attacking without even needing a prompt. The aliens were small and quick, dodging him easily. He wished they would stay still and take the blows. He needed to blow off steam. He pushed them back fast and when he lost sight of one, he heard the gunfire smattering behind him. 

The fight was over fast, Keith overpowering one alien easily and turning to take care of the one Lance had distracted. Then he stood between them, glancing from one surrendering alien to the other, and then to Lance. 

“Geez, Keith,” Lance said. “You in a bad mood or what?”

“Maybe if you’d shut up,” Keith growled, “I wouldn’t be.” 

Lance’s answering frown was tinged with irritation. 

Avilus was pleased by the fight, however short it was. “You’re only in practice for now,” he said, taking their weapons back. “If you can keep this up, you’ll be winners in no time.” 

The sickening glee on the alien’s large face was enough to make Keith feel bad about how he had attacked. Maybe he had been a bit too violent, too brutal. These aliens were new, Avilus had said. He could have shown control, like he had when he had been forced to face Lance the day before. It was too late now, and if what Avilus said held up, it would never be a good idea to show mercy to anyone here. 

Arena Zeta, Avilus had told them, had two separate divisions of fighters. Those who fought solo, and those who fought in pairs. Every alien they had seen so far, the ones in the barracks and sitting in the lounge, would likely face them in the arena at some point. “Any of them,” Avilus had said, “will fight to kill you. You will do the same. It’s the only way to win.” 

The only way to live. 

Once Avilus released them, they headed to the stairwell to go to the kitchens. Lance spoke once the door slid shut behind them. “Hey, so… Sorry for being annoying.” 

Keith had already started down. He stopped three steps down the stairs, turning back. Lance still stood at the top, just past the door, staring at his feet. “It’s not that,” Keith said. “It’s just - it’s like you’re not even taking this seriously.” He waved a hand uselessly at the stairwell around them. “Like… Like, we were sold, Lance. Some asshole  _ bought _ us to fight for him. This is - This is fucked up. And all you’ve done since we got here - no, since we were captured - is tell stupid jokes and annoy the hell out of me.” 

Lance was rubbing at the back of his neck as Keith talked, turning his face up to the ceiling. The mark Avilus had left on him was a bruise covering the side of his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then his gaze fell to Keith. “But it’s not like we can talk privately. What am I supposed to do? Wanna plan an escape with guards and creepy aliens eavesdropping?” 

“You said you’d help me plan.” Keith was glaring at him, angry still despite the fight earlier. “Naming an alien Celery and making bad jokes about probes isn’t helping me.” 

Somehow, Lance had the gall to giggle. It was like none of this was affecting him. “You remembered the probe joke,” he said. “God, Keith, that was such a good one.“

“I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you,” Keith said. 

Lance only shrugged. “Can’t help that, I guess.” He took the steps down to Keith, draping an arm over his shoulders and crowding him. “What I can help with is the fact that we need food, and I think your grumpy ass needs a nap or something.” 

“I don’t need a nap,” Keith said. He was basically forced to go downstairs, Lance moving him along. He frowned at the other boy only to be met with a smile. “I need you to take this seriously.”

“And I need you to lighten up,” Lance countered. He paused on the landing and the smile faltered just for a second. Lance held his gaze with frightened eyes and added, “Please? Lighten up some.” 

Keith only stared at him. What the hell was that? He didn’t have time to form a coherent thought, let alone answer him, before Lance was leading him downstairs again. The arm slid from around his shoulders as they reached the door to the other floor, Lance pushing it open. That annoyingly cheerful smile was back on his face. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The days started to run together. Every night, Lance lay on his side, staring at the empty bunk beside his, anxiety gnawing at his heart. There was too much to worry about here. 

Avilus was making them face off against other pairs of aliens twice a day now. And while Keith slipped into the fights easily, Lance hung back. He let Keith take the upper hand and only fired the gun in his hands when an alien looked like it was going to attack. An alien slipped behind Keith’s back, and Lance shot at it. Try to shoot Keith or stab him or hit him with strange and dangerous alien weaponry? Call a warning, shoot at the alien. Every shot was a warning, meant to distract them, to pull their attention from Keith. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot with the intention to hurt anyone, not when these aliens were trapped here like the two of them. 

The other aliens may not be kind, but they were innocent. None of them asked to be here. They could all ignore Lance, openly argue with him like Celery did, but that wouldn’t change it. Lance was going to avoid causing them harm if he could. 

Then there was Keith. Fucking idiot, hotheaded, sharp tongued Keith. He didn’t pick fights with the other aliens, didn’t argue like Lance did. Didn’t even engage them. He glared, brooded, kept to himself, and only really spoke to Lance. 

And he kept arguing with Avilus. 

On their fourth (or fifth?) day there, Avilus had told Lance to put more effort into the practice fights. “You can do better than this,” Avilus said. That day’s fight, Lance had only fired twice. Keith had taken care of everything else. “You will need to fight like you mean it. You can’t let your friend here do all the work for you.” 

Lance had taken it in stride, not meeting Avilus’s eye. After that first day, he had learned that the big alien liked if he looked meeker. He could do that, whatever, no big deal. 

Keith, though, clearly thought otherwise. He had straightened up, sword pointed at the floor. “Give him a break,” he said. “You’re the one throwing us into these stupid fights. There’s not even time to get used to this.”

Avilus had turned on him in an instant. “You don’t need to adjust,” he snarled. He struck Keith in the stomach, sent him to his knees. The sword clattered to the ground beside him and Avilus grasped a fistful of Keith’s hair, yanking his head up. 

Lance had jolted forward without thinking. “Keith, holy shit,” was all he time to say, and then Avilus’s free hand had his arm and was bending it painfully backwards. “Ow. Ow ow  _ ow _ .” He bent over with the force, biting back whimpers of pain. He could feel the bone threatening to break.  

Avilus said, “Both of you need to get over yourselves. You belong to me. You do what I say. Stop talking back, fight who I tell you to, and we’ll get along just fine.” He’d shoved Keith’s head down nearly into the dirt floor, released Lance, and stomped off. 

After that, Lance worried about Keith a lot. 

A couple days later, Avilus had been giving Keith unwelcome suggestions on his fighting style. Keith had snapped at him to shut the hell up, and then Avilus had whipped something out that sparked. Lance’s heart was in his throat but he didn’t even have time to step forward before Avilus set it to Keith’s skin - and Keith screamed, a harsh, broken sound. 

That night, Lance had crawled into the bottom bunk with Keith. “Dude,” he said, “you gotta stop pickin’ fights with Avilus.” 

It was dark in the barracks, but he could still make out Keith’s face going through a multitude of emotions. Surprise, annoyance, embarrassment. “Get out of my bed,” he hissed. 

Lance frowned, brows drawn. “He could squash you with one hand,” he said. “Just stop arguing with him.” 

Keith pressed a hand to Lance’s chest, pushing him away. “Go away.” 

“He fucking electrocuted you today.” He just wanted Keith to listen, to actually think before he yelled at the temperamental rock-like alien that had paid for them. “Just - will you stop pushing me?” Without thinking, he gripped Keith’s waist with one hand, pulling him close. There was an immediate flush high on Keith’s cheeks. “You wanted me to be serious about this, right? Well, okay, here you go. Me. Serious. Stop fighting with Avilus.” 

Keith didn’t answer. He wouldn’t meet Lance’s eyes, gaze focused instead on where his hand pressed into Lance’s chest. This close, their legs touched and Lance shifted, nudging one of his between Keith’s knees. He felt the sharp breath the other boy took and then, suddenly, the way they were laying struck him. He took in Keith’s blush, the confused look on his face; his hand was still on Keith’s waist, fingers touching skin where Keith’s shirt was riding up his side. This was a lot closer than he had meant to get.

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing, pulling himself away with a jolt. Keith looked shocked. Lance hurried to climb to his own bunk, where the sudden racing of his heart would be a problem just for him. He had difficulty getting to sleep that night, for reasons totally unrelated to stupid Keith’s stupid flushed face. 

They didn’t talk about it the next morning - thank God for small favors. 

Over the next few days, Lance noticed that Keith was refraining from arguing with Avilus. On the way back to the barracks one night, after a particularly annoying fight, Lance nudged Keith with one shoulder. “You aren’t being a little shit anymore,” he said.

Keith actually laughed. “Just decided I didn’t like being hit, that’s all.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause I think it had something to do with one amazing, talented, handsome guy who gave you some pretty good words of advice.”

“Hmm… Nope. Not sure I know anyone like that.” 

A joking Keith was so much better than the anger-driven mess that he had been lately that Lance beamed at him.They had a nice dinner of boring food where Keith didn’t glare at quite as many aliens as he usually did. It wasn’t quite dinner on the Castle, with the others surrounding them, but at least Lance could crack a terrible joke and still rely on Keith’s unimpressed or confused responses. 

The next two days, it was as if Keith were relaxing, bit by bit. He was still stoic and dismissive of the aliens in the barracks with them but that was fine. Lance wasn’t comfortable around them either. He still spent each night filled with anxious thoughts and a need ro run, and all these strange aliens weren’t helping. 

Point being, Keith wasn’t so grouchy which meant that Keith was both easier to be around and less of a weight on Lance’s mind. Keith tended to be more stabby and snarly when he was angry - which he had been since Lance first woke up in that cell - and therefore more likely to piss the wrong person off and get into fights. 

And then one night, Avilus approached them in the fighters’ kitchens. Lance held a tray with a plate of unappetizing food and stared blankly at the huge alien. Keith was beside him, his own tray sitting on the table waiting for him. Avilus said, “You have the day off from training tomorrow.” A grin cut through his face, exposing his teeth. “Day after that, you fight.” 

“Uh,” Lance started, “we have been fighting. Haven’t we?” 

Avilus said nothing.

Keith cursed. He spoke so quiet Lance would have missed it if they hadn’t been standing so close. “The arena.” 

Avilus nodded, a glint in his eyes that made Lance’s stomach roil. “Get ready, boys,” he said. “You’ll be the first ones up. First fight of the day.” He barked out a harsh laugh, clapped Lance on one shoulder, and left them. 

Lance stood still, staring down at the food. He was suddenly not hungry at all. A quick glance at Keith showed the other boy glaring at Avilus’s back, fists clenched at his sides. “Y’know,” Lance said. His voice shook. “I really don’t like it here.” 

Keith didn’t respond.

Which sucked ‘cause Lance really would have liked him to. Sighing, Lance took his seat at the table, digging a utensil close enough to a spoon into the food he had been given. He wasn’t hungry but if he didn’t eat it, he’d probably have hunger pangs in the damn arena and - 

Nope. He wasn’t going to think about it. Not right now. He took a deep breath before shoving food into his mouth forcefully. Keith was sitting beside him, picking at his meal rather than eating it. Lance spared him another glance, trying to catch his dark eyes, but Keith was glaring at the table now. He had his head leaning on one hand, black hair falling into his eyes. 

“So, you’re back to being angry,” Lance said, swirling the not-spoon through his food. “That’s great. Yep. I really enjoy this side of you.” 

“Stop it,” Keith said. Harsh, biting words. He still wasn’t looking at Lance. “I’m not in the mood for this.” 

“For what?”

Keith didn’t answer, just slammed his hands to the table. He was on his feet in an instant, tray in his hands. Not a bit of it had been eaten. The trays were returned where the chef lobbed it out to them, a waste receptacle close to the wall for trash. For a few seconds, Lance just watched Keith head in that direction before jumping to his feet. He grabbed his own half-eaten tray of food, stumbled over his feet, and started after him. 

“Keith.”

The other boy didn’t stop, didn’t turn to look at him, just shoved the uneaten food into the waste and practically threw the tray back at the chef. 

“Keith, wait!” Lance did the same a bit too quickly, tray hitting the floor as it missed the counter entirely. His feet skidded in something wet as he turned to follow Keith. Some alien must have dropped their food. In the hall, he said, “Talk to me, man.”  

Keith threw the door to the barracks open in silence, storming through. Lance followed him at the same pace, catching up and sliding in front of him. “Come on, say something. You can’t seriously just ignore me.” 

“Go away,” Keith said. His glare was fierce and Lance just met it with one of his own. Sure, his was fueled more by his increasing anxiety than anger, but it was still a glare. 

“No.” 

Keith snarled, shoving past Lance, walking up to their bunks with Lance on his heels. He wasn’t about to let Keith out of his sight, not now. Not when they were supposed to actually fight in a real space gladiator arena. He watched Keith climb into his bunk while he searched his brain for something to say beyond Keith’s name and useless chatter. Anything. 

Keith twisted around, lying on his side, back to Lance.

What Lance said in the end was, “Are you wearing your boots in bed?”

“Does it matter?” Keith said. He still sounded angry, still wouldn’t turn to look at him.

Lance scoffed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “Uh, yeah,” he said. There was too much going on for him to think clearly and he was going to blame that on the fact that he yanked one of Keith’s feet into his lap. “Who wears shoes in bed? C’mon, Keith, you animal.” 

Keith jerked his leg away, sitting back up. “Leave me alone,” he said. 

Lance looked at him, met his eyes, and smiled. Keith looked less angry, more confused. He could work with that. “Aw, Keithy-boy,” he said. “You’re a heathen.”

“What?”

“No one wears boots in bed, you nutcase.” 

“I’m not gonna fall asleep.” 

Lance snorted. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.” He reached for Keith’s feet again, snickering when the other boy yanked them back. “You lay down, and then you’re out like a light. With your shoes on, dirtying your sheets - “

“They’re already dirty.”

“ - ‘cause you’re a heathen.” He caught one foot and pulled, only for Keith to kick loose and scramble to the opposite edge of the bed. “Just take off your shoes, man.” 

Keith was staring at him like he’d gone insane. It was a vast difference from the scowl he so often wore around here. Lance’s smile flared into a grin. He couldn’t stop himself from grasping Keith by both legs and pulling him closer. Like he expected, Keith fought, twisting around and reaching out to grasp one of the bars holding the second bunk up. Lance pulled harder.

“Let me go!” Keith said. 

In answer, Lance scooted backwards, yanking on the other boy as he did. Falling off the bed was not in the plan, neither was dragging Keith with him. The startled squawk Keith made was worth it on its own though. He was laughing while Keith cursed at him, climbing off him. Lance rolled over, grabbing at his friend again, trying to pull him back to the floor. In seconds, they were wrestling against one another - Keith, trying to pull himself back onto the bed, Lance just aiming to make it as difficult as possible. Keith could overpower him easily. 

Didn’t mean Lance had to let him have it easy. Every time Keith slipped out of his grasp, he’d snatch on somewhere else. At one point, both his hands were on Keith’s hips, tugging him back down. A brief moment where his chest was to Keith’s back, and then Keith made some kind of strangled, confused noise and Lance was laughing again. 

Keith twisted around, planted a hand on Lance’s face, and shoved. “Shut up!” 

Lance licked his palm. He was grinning when Keith recoiled in disgust, and if he used the momentary distraction to throw Keith down on his stomach and sit on his back, oh well. “I win,” he said. 

Keith cursed beneath him. “Get off me, you idiot.” 

Lance responded by patting his side with one hand. He could feel Keith jerk at the movement. “Now, now, Keith. I’m going to help you take these stupid boots off and then you can go right back to sleep.” He had one of Keith’s feet in his hands within seconds, ignoring how Keith squirmed against his weight and kicked out at him. “You could make this easier, y’know.” 

It was at the tail end of his sentence that another voice spoke. “Earthlings are weird.” 

He looked up, right into the eye stalks of that stupid alien, Celery. Immediately, Lance frowned, letting go of Keith with one hand to point up at Celery. “Hey! Your eye stalks are weird!”

The lids on Celery’s eye stalks narrowed. 

Lance blanched. “Ah, no wait. That was rude, I’m - ow! Keith!” Middle of apologizing and Keith had pulled his foot loose, kicking Lance in the jaw in the process. 

Keith was pushing at the floor, and Lance was sent toppling off of him. “You did that to yourself,” he said. He got back on the bed, but not before shedding the boots. They landed beside Lance on the floor with quiet thumps and that was totally a victory. Even if he didn’t get to bother Keith about nothing anymore. 

Celery’s stupid eyes were still watching him. “You distracted everyone,” he said.

As much as he hated those dumb eyes, the alien was right. Lance cast a glance around them to see many alien heads turning back to whatever they had been doing. Goofing off with Keith may be fun, but he had basically set a show for anyone in here. That was embarrassing. Well. Looked like it was time for bed on that note. 

Lance stood and pulled his own shoes off. Couldn’t keep them on after giving Keith hell. Instead of climbing into his own bunk, he slid into Keith’s. Lying on his back in the near darkness, he looked straight up. The metal keeping his bunk from falling down caught the dim light from the center of the room. He heard Keith moving beside him, felt it as the other boy stilled beside him.

After a couple minutes of quiet, Keith asked, “What are you doing now?” 

Lance turned his head just enough to look at him. Amidst the darkness of the room, shrouded by his hair, Keith’s skin looked startlingly pale. Lance’s eyes drifted away when he spoke, grimacing. “Don’t wanna be alone.” He hadn’t wanted to make this serious, had only wanted for things in his head to calm down. 

Keith said, “Oh. Okay.” 

Lance’s hand lay on the bed between them, the other one on his stomach. Keith’s arm was a warm presence against his own. He was stuck by a very sudden urge.

“You know,” Keith continued. “I’m right down here when you’re on the top bunk. You don’t have to lay here.” 

“I know,” Lance said. “Not the same.” 

Ah, fuck it. Anxiety was relentless, pulling at him to remind him that they were going to the arena, this was really happening, he and Keith were stuck here and made to fight and - 

He reached out blindly searching until two of his fingers found Keith’s. He heard Keith’s sharp intake of breath and ignored it, reaching out to slide his hand into the other’s. Slowly, he locked their fingers together and squeezed. 

Keith’s voice was just a little bit louder when he said, “Lance…?”

Lance looked over, gave him a goofy grin that he hoped was rid of all of his nerves. “No worries,” he said. “It’s not gay if it’s in space, right?” 

Keith looked like he could have hit him. He sighed instead, raising his other hand to press to his forehead. “Goddammit, Lance.” He didn’t pull away, though, just lay there with Lance’s hand in his. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Lance spent the night in Keith’s bed. A bit too close for Keith’s own comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to toss Lance out. Not when he just wanted company. Keith waited until Lance’s breathing was even, until the fingers around his own slackened, before pulling away and lying with his back to Lance. His palm was sweaty, heart beating out an even pace - normal things, he guessed. Completely normal for holding someone’s hand and lying next to them in the dark. 

Instantly, his heart skipped a beat and his chest felt tight. Keith frowned into darkness, wiped his hand against his chest and ignored every little thing he was feeling. This wasn’t the place nor the time for this. It took him a while to fall asleep, mind going from the arena to Lance and back again. Lying on the blankets like he was didn’t help, but he didn’t want to move to get under them and risk waking Lance up. When he finally did sleep, it was uneasy and so light he woke at the sound of the barracks door sliding open.

He pushed himself up on his elbows, squinting past Lance’s sleeping form. A guard stood there, tablet in hand, calling names. A handful of aliens rose from their bunks, walking out the door. This had happened only a few times since they had been brought here, and Keith still had no idea what was going on. He’d figure it out sometime.

For today, though, there was only one way he could think of to spend his day off. He sat up, stretched, and then cast a look beside him. Lance had rolled onto his side in his sleep, head pillowed on one arm; his free hand was stretched out to Keith, almost touching him where he sat. He looked relaxed and at ease. Soft. Keith was aware he was staring, had actually folded his arms over his knees as he sat there. Ever since they had been snatched off that planet, Lance had been wound tightly and, other than when he’d grin and crack bad jokes, there was hardly a semblance of how he’d behaved on the Castle. At least asleep, he looked more like himself.

Keith frowned, forcing his eyes away from Lance and standing. The arena was affecting them both, he knew that, but he couldn’t really do much about it now. Not with guards at every entrance and the sword taken from him after every practice fight. They would find a way out, or the others would find them, or both would happen. 

He left Lance asleep while he thought over everything and anything he had seen in this place. He walked into the kitchen thinking if he had seen any unguarded doors (he hadn’t) or large vents (not even once). At the table, he ate the food without tasting it, staring at nothing and wondering how many guards he and Lance could fight off if they tried to make a run for it. 

Halfway through his meager meal, a tray slammed down beside him. Keith jumped, dropped the alien spoon he was holding and it splattered back into the food. 

He heard Lance’s snicker before the other boy had even sat down. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked. 

Keith was frowning at the bits of food that had splattered onto the table. He spared a glance at Lance - tired eyes, tired smile. “You were sleeping,” he said. 

“Yeah. So… why didn’t you wake me?”  Lance shoved a bite of food in his mouth, making a face at the taste. “Damn, these aliens can’t cook at all.” 

He hadn’t been aware he was going to need a reason. “It’s… it’s our ‘day off’,” he said. “You always sleep late on the Castle when we aren’t doing anything. Figured it was just how you are.” 

Lance hummed around a mouthful of food. It wasn’t a pleasant noise. “People wake me up on the Castle,” he said. He was silent for a moment and Keith glanced over to see him looking ahead of himself with a distant look to his eyes. A second later, he shook his head and a smile was back on his face. “But we aren’t there. We are here.” He slammed his spoon into the food for emphasis, pointing with his other hand at Keith. “And you’re going to wake me if you leave the bunk, got it?” 

Keith blinked, looking from the finger in his face to Lance. “Uh… sure?” He tilted his head a bit to get around Lance’s finger only for the other boy to pull it back and pop him in the side of the head. “What was that for?”

Lance shrugged. “For not waking me, I guess.” He drew his hand back after tugging on Keith’s hair once. A grin sprang to life at Keith’s scowl, and then they were finishing breakfast in silence. 

After breakfast, Keith wandered the few halls they had access to, peering through windows and open doorways. Lance followed, leaning over to look in as well. He didn’t talk other than to ask once what they were doing, and even though he was clearly unsatisfied by the answer of “just looking”, he didn’t ask again. They passed by the large lounge, currently filled with numerous aliens - most of which didn’t look up at them. The majority of the doors on the lower floor were tightly shut and guards at the barracks watched them, made it impossible to get inside. Upstairs, they looked into the training rooms, a few empty but most occupied by sparring aliens

Finally, Keith marched right up to a pair of guards standing by the arena doors. Neither of them wore helmets, but they held heavy guns. He heard Lance’s footsteps pause behind him. One of the guards spoke first: “What the hell are you doin’, kid?”

“I want to see the arena,” Keith said. 

The guards exchanged a look. “Why?” the second one asked. “Don’t you get enough time in there?”

“Haven’t been in yet,” Keith said. “I want to see where I’m supposed to be fighting.” 

Another glance. 

Then, before the guards could speak again, Lance was at his side. An arm was wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Keith frowned, looking at Lance - he was grinning, all his attention on the guards. “Sorry about this idiot,” he said, giving Keith a light shake. “He’s so eager to fight he can barely stop from arguing with our” -a brief, barely noticeable, pause- “owner. Big guy, like a rock?” He raised his free hand up over his hand as some vague measure. “Avilus?”

The second guard snorted. “Oh, man. Fighting Avilus. I’d pay to see that.” 

The first one was smirking. “What’s that got to do with him wanting to be let into the arena?”

“Well,” Lance propped his other arm on his hip, leaning into Keith as he did. “He hasn’t told me, actually. ‘Cause he’s a bastard like that.” 

“Fuck you,” Keith said dryly. 

“Yeah, you wish, buddy.” He said it without pause, likely without even thinking, and Keith sent him a baffled look. “But what I think is that, even though I wasn’t consulted here, it might be best for us to see it. Just so we get a good idea of what it looks like, where the best angles are - “

“Angles?” a guard interrupted. 

“For the audience,” Lance said with a nod. “I mean, we’re supposed to put on a show right? I can say for sure that we’ll put on a much better show if we know enough to not trip over something and hurt ourselves.” 

Another brief glance, then the first guard sighed. The second one shrugged, shifting away from the door to lean against the wall near it. “Fine,” the first one said, “but you only have a short while before that audience you mentioned will be taking their seats. The first thing they should see is the battles getting ready to start, not you two idiots doing nothing.” They turned, reaching for the handle of the door and pushing it forward. “Make it quick.”

Keith moved away from Lance in an instant. He walked quickly past the guards and through the open door, Lance at his heels. The door shut behind them with a dull, echoing thud. 

Before them was a short hall, dark except for very dim orange lights where the walls met the ceiling. The hallway led to a short set of steps, another door that they pushed open, and then they were stepping onto a patch of hardened dirt. Lance whistled lowly beside him. Keith ignored him, turning his head to sweep his gaze over the place.

The arena was huge. It’s ceiling was a low dome made of glass, thick beams running through the glass. There were metal objects hanging from each beam, four or five, Keith couldn’t make out what those were from down here. He focused on what was obvious instead. The walls, dirty white and splashed with mysterious stains, and the floor of dirt. 

Lance said, “This place is way bigger than I thought.” 

“You saw the building from outside,” Keith said, striding forward. “What did you expect?”

He didn’t have to look to know Lance was following. “No idea,” he said. “Not this.”

Keith walked past rocks, some as large as boulders, stepping around large pieces of metal shoved into the dirt floor. Several large, rusted machines spotted the floor. Different types of cover, places for a brief respite in the middle of a fight. Near the center of the arena, he craned his neck back, peering above them. High above the dirt floor were exposed pipes and vents, crossing over and under one another, stretching from one side of the arena to the other. 

Lance must have been looking at them as well because the next thing he said was, “Think I could get up there? View of this place must be great from there.” 

He actually considered the distance, then shrugged. “Looks too far.” 

“Yeah,” Lance said, sighing. “Guess I’ll have to fight on the ground like some loser.” 

Keith lowered his gaze just to shoot Lance an unimpressed stare. The other boy just smiled, wandering around to poke at the machinery. Keith watched him go for a bit before turning where he stood. He wanted to memorize the placement of every piece of cover, learn every possible path someone could take through it - but he didn’t have that kind of time. He could at least remember the way to the center, right? Shouldn’t be too hard. He was turning back the way they came, looking from cover to cover, when Lance called for him. 

He stood at the edge of the arena with his back to Keith, hands on his knees as he bent over. Keith paused before heading over, wondering just what could be so damn important on the ground. He made it to Lance’s side and looked down with him, eyes widening immediately. 

“What the hell is this?” Keith said. What he was looking at made him feel like falling so he reached up to grab Lance’s shoulder tight.

“That’s a fuckin’ pit,” Lance said. 

He wasn’t wrong. They were looking down into a deep, dark pit that was carved between the wall and the floor of the arena. It was only a couple feet across, easy to jump - if there had been anything on the other side to jump to, anyway. Keith couldn’t tell where the pit ended and the sight was giving him bad vertigo. He stood up straight, training his eyes up through the glass instead. At the rows and rows of seats provided. 

“Why is there a pit here?” Lance asked. He still hadn’t moved.

Keith shook his head. “It’s like… like they want to make it harder to leave.” 

Lance stood up straight then, a wary grimace cutting his face. “You sure?” he said. “I mean, it does make it kind of hard to get out and - I’ll be honest here, okay?” He heaved a sigh, raising a hand to run through his hair. “I kind of made up all that to get past the guards ‘cause I was hoping we could find an exit. But I can’t get up there” -a gesture to the pipework above them- “and now there’s  _ this... _ ” -and a gesture to the pit. “This sucks, man.”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It does.” 

They stood there for a couple minutes longer before the guard was marching across the dirt to usher them back through the doors. A pair of aliens, taller and much bigger than either Keith or Lance stood waiting outside. They wore fitted armor. One of them grinned as they walked past, fangs digging into his lower lip. Keith glared back, turning to walk away. 

He had no idea how to spend the rest of the day now, and was no closer to figuring out how to get out of this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they've been there about ten days now


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> battle buddies movie coming soon to a theater near you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating bumped up caaaause reasons

The worst part about two missing Paladins was that they couldn’t just hide from the universe until the team was reunited. They could take some off, sure, but they all knew they couldn’t keep away forever.

For the first few days, they scoured the planet the Red and Blue lions had been found. Then they scanned the empty space for ships of any kind. There had only been one - a small thing that looked like some sort of cargo vessel. Coran said it had hidden weapons on it so they had approached it cautiously, hailed it, and gotten a response from a four armed alien in a helmet. The conversation had been useless.

The alien spoke first, rolling right over what Allura had been trying to ask. “Ah,” she had said. “More strange ships! You must have the others as well.”

There was a flurry of chatter from all of them, but Allura and Coran were the only ones on the Castle, the others floating by the ship in towering lions. “You were on the planet,” Allura said. 

“Yes, we were. I had been wondering where those ships went. Are they yours?”

“Yes,” Allura said. “They are. Did you by any chance see their pilots?”

“Pilots?” the alien asked. “No.”

Allura had patched Shiro in then, only because he was being polite in his requests. Pidge had been demanding it and Hunk was muttering uselessly to himself over the comms. “Excuse me,” Shiro broke in, “but what were you doing down there? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Scavenging,” the alien said instantly. “It is what we do, you see. Not everyone has such advanced ships. We must live somehow.” 

“We?”

“Myself, along with my partner, Lykaon. He is busy and cannot take the time to talk.”

“That’s fine,” Shiro said. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone else there?”

“No one who could pilot those. I assure you, there was only the two of us and the local primitive lifeforms down there.”

Through more careful questions, they learned that the alien’s name was Dakri, and that she had left before they got there to see about getting more ships to help them move the massive lions off the planet. “Yes, we planned to scavenge their parts,” she said when pressed. “It does not matter because, clearly, you have them and we do not. Am I going to be killed for something I did not even do?” Telling her they weren’t going to kill her was ignored. She told them she had sent a message to her friends to tell them they had lost their chance and was on her way to rejoin them. 

Pidge had hissed into the comms then about placing a tracker on the alien’s ship. “Come on,” she said. “I can get down there and do it without her even noticing me! Green’ll have me back, no problem!”

The connection between the two had been broken, Dakri’s ship turning away from the lions. “Pidge,” Allura scolded. “We are not going to track someone just because they’re a scavenger.”

“She could be lying,” Pidge insisted. “What if they’re on her ship?”

“There’s only two life signs,” Coran cut in. “And there are two aliens.” 

A quick, hurried argument between Pidge, Shiro, and Allura that was concluded when Dakri’s ship disappeared. Pulled far enough away, the alien had slipped away without any of them noticing. It was Hunk who drew their attention. “Uh, guys,” he said loudly. “The ship’s already gone. So… We can’t do anything with it now.” 

Pidge’s grip tightened around the Green lion’s controls. “It could have helped,” she snarled. “You never know.” 

Allura just sighed. 

“Where did you even get trackers?” Shiro asked, exasperated. 

Pidge could easily picture the tired expression on their leader’s face. She huffed. “Made them, duh.” Technically, they were reverse engineered from Galra tech and rebuilt with materials that were untouched by the furry aliens. As unlikely as it was, she hadn’t wanted to chance enemy tech sparking back to life and leading the Galra to them. 

They retired for the day then, returned the lions to their hangers and attempted to eat dinner. None of them would sit at the table - the two missing seats too obvious a gap. Pidge shot a dirty look at Shiro in the kitchen before snatching a bowl of goo and retreating back to the Green lion’s hanger. She wasn’t sleeping well, couldn’t bear to lie down and even try. Everytime she did, her brain kicked into overdrive, churning out theories of what happened and how she could find Keith and Lance. So she worked herself to exhaustion running tests on her equipment and seeing if she couldn’t improve some of the tech she already had her hands on. It was a difficult task since Altean and Galran tech were both so far ahead of anything from Earth. Everything needed to be understood before any improvements could be made and that meant a lot of research, tests, taking several steps back to correct mistakes.

It was exactly what she needed to keep herself busy. 

Pidge would work herself to the bone and then pass out curled on the floor of the hanger, her laptop sitting open and waiting. Deep creases appeared in her skin, imprints from falling asleep over wires and small pieces of junk. It was fine. They disappeared, no one noticed under the Paladin armor, and Pidge didn’t have to deal with questions about why she wasn’t sleeping in her room. 

After the planet gave them nothing, the three remaining lions and the Castle turned their focus to the rest of the system. There was only one other planet in the habitable zone, but it turned out to be a barren rock with toxic air and little to no water at all. Coran had done a quick scan of it, said it contained some kind of valuable materials, things the Castle could use. So Pidge made a note to create something that could harvest it for them, just so she wouldn’t have to set foot down there. The readings were not pretty. 

That left the rest of this system. Gas giants, dwarf planets, nothing of use. Shiro even dove down to the asteroid belt, scanning it relentlessly. No sign of a ship, no signs of life. They came back to the Castle empty handed again, and Pidge had Hunk for company that night, helping her with the harvesting project. Turned out that Coran had been able to find some old Altean devices that really just needed a tune-up and fresh parts to get working. 

It didn’t take long, and in no time at all, Pidge and Hunk were loading three of the things into Green. They were each about the size of Pidge herself and heavy. As soon as they were loaded and the lion locked up again, Pidge accompanied Hunk to where the Blue lion was still under repairs. They joined Coran, and if Pidge woke up in her bed the next morning, she blamed one of them for carrying her back after she passed out. 

The next two days went like so: drop off harvesters, continue to scout the system, return to pick up harvesters, work until exhaustion. Repeat for an added dose of getting nothing done. 

Allura had called them all to the bridge once they had gathered enough from the barren planet. She stood in the center with Shiro beside her. Pidge stood by Hunk, peering at the princess from behind her glasses. “We are leaving this system,” Allura started. “I don’t like to say it, but there is nothing here.” 

Pidge was reluctant to agree. She thought bitterly of her trackers, the alien ship, and glowered in their direction. “Where do we go then?” she asked. 

“Well… We could search the neighboring systems,” Allura said. She crossed her arms over herself, eyes sliding off the two Paladins before her and out the Castle’s windows. “But it would be a lot of ground to cover, and we may not find anything there either.” She sighed and it was as if the weight of the universe hit her at once. “Unfortunately, I cannot track individual Paladins.” 

Shiro rested a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment, giving her a sympathetic look. That ounce of sympathy was gone in a blink as he turned his gaze to Pidge and Hunk instead. “I know this is bad,” he said, “but to find Lance and Keith, we have to find some kind of lead on them.” 

“You’ve got a plan though,” Hunk said. “Right? Please tell me you have a plan.” 

“Sort of,” Allura said. 

“It was more Coran’s idea,” Shiro added. He gestured back at where Coran usually stood, the controls at the front of the bridge vacant. 

Pidge adjusted her glasses. “Where is Coran anyway?”

“He’s getting things ready for our first stop,” Allura said. “He’ll be here shortly.” She straightened up then, arms falling back to her side. “Coran has suggested that we could try some of the, er… seedier places to search.” 

“Seedier places?” Hunk repeated. “What kind of seedy are we talking about? ‘Cause the first thing I pictured was creepy back alleys and weird guys with trench coats.” 

A ghost of a smile passed over Shiro’s face. “Think more along like the lines of bad movies and physical black markets,” he said. “That kind of seedy.”

Instantly, Pidge had the mental image of smoky, badly lit, cramped streets and squashed markets crawling with bad guys. And right on the heels of that, the ‘space pirate’ mall Coran had taken them to recently. “Are we sure these places are actually bad places? His last one wasn’t. At all.” 

The elevator had dinged while she was speaking and Coran was walking in, his arms clasped behind his back. “Don’t you worry,” he said to Pidge. “The Unilu swap moon may have changed, but I know quite a few places to check in on. And I can find these sneaky little places easier than you think. You just have to look for the right signs.” He passed by them all on his way to the front, pausing by Allura to tell her everything was good, Castle was ready to go. 

Allura nodded, ordered them all into their seats, and readied the wormhole. 

Pidge’s gaze flicked to the empty seats. Visiting weird alien markets didn’t sound like it would offer much in the way of leads, but Allura and Shiro were right. Nothing was here anymore and they had to find something, somehow. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The night before their fight in the arena, Lance slept next to Keith again. He hadn’t even asked, just crawled in after Keith and laid down. The bunks weren’t big and he could feel Lance lying beside him, but at least they had separate blankets. If he had to put up with Lance underneath the same blanket, Keith would have climbed up top to get away from him. 

But maybe it was a little nice to have someone at his back while he slept. Especially here.

By the time morning came, Keith woke early, nerves twisting his gut to shreds. He sat up in bed, arms on his knees, head on his arms, and waited for the cue for them to go fight. Beside him, Lance was still asleep. He had rolled over onto his back during the night, his blanket tangled around him. Keith spared him a glance, then looked through the rest of the room - most of the aliens were still asleep, only a few moving to sit up - and then his gaze landed on the barracks door and stayed. 

Several minutes passed before the doors opened. A guard stood there, holding a tablet like others before. This one read off names in a bored voice, including Keith and Lance. 

He was pretty damn sure what this was for now. 

Four aliens were getting to their feet, trudging to the door. Keith flicked his gaze over each one, wishing he knew which ones he would have to fight. One was smaller, about waist height and skinny. Easy to beat. Another was large, well over his and Lance’s height, with a bulky build. The other two were average in height, stature, everything. He really hoped none of them had any hidden skills. 

Lance was still asleep. Keith pushed at him, saying, “Get up, Lance.” The other just whined, pushing at Keith’s hands and trying to roll back over. With a frown, Keith shoved him off the bed. Over Lance’s protests, he said, “They’re calling us. We have to go.” 

He could see how quickly the last bits of sleep left Lance’s eyes, got to watch the fear spread through the other boy’s face. “Oh. Oh, man. The fucking arena.” He groaned, ran a hand through his hair and ducked his head down. “This is gonna suck.” 

“The guard’s waiting on us,” Keith said. He thought so, at least. He stood, shoving his feet into his boots. Lance did the same, all traces of fear gone and replaced with steel resignation. 

Lance’s bravado lasted all of two minutes, maybe. The guard led them all to the training rooms, each pair of aliens getting a different one. There was nothing in the room Lance and Keith stood in but the table that had been used to display weapons when they first arrived. The sword and rifle they had chosen were waiting there. Lance took one look at the weapons, then whirled on Keith with wide eyes. Before Keith even knew what was happening, Lance’s hands were on his shoulders, his fingers tight. “Keith! What the hell is gonna happen in this arena?”

“Um - “

“It’s not gonna be a fight to the death, is it? Oh man, I can’t kill these guys! They’re stuck here like we are!”

“I don’t - “

Lance stiffened, leaning closer. “Dude,” he whispered, “what if one of us dies?” 

“We aren’t going to die.” 

Lance released him with a scoff, pacing to the weapons and prodding at the gun. “You say that like you know,” he said. “Okay, so. In order to not die” -he shot Keith a scathing look, like Keith had said it in the first place- “you gotta distract whoever we fight so I can get further back. Unless you want me shooting you with this baby, then, by all means, Keith! Prance around in front of me!”

Keith stared at him. He was facing the gun again, shoulders tense. “Lance,” Keith said. “Are you okay?” He sighed, not waiting for an answer. “Of course you aren’t. That was a stupid question.”

At that, Lance turned to face him. It looked like he was trying to glare, but it had frozen in some sort of fear-laced grimace. “I’m totally fine. Never been better.”

“Right…” Keith crossed his arms, glancing from the door to Lance, watching as Lance poked the gun with one finger. Obviously, Lance was lying - badly at that - but Keith had no idea what to say about it. Did he approach Lance’s obvious nerves or the fear written on his face? Try to calm him down? That would probably be best, if he knew how to do that. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Talking about feelings was too difficult. “Look, Lance…” he started. “Just… uhm…” He trailed off because Lance was facing him again, looking at him with his brows drawn and eyes dark, a frown tugging at his lips. 

He couldn’t remember a time where Lance looked so distressed. 

“Just… focus on what we have to do,” Keith said. “Stop worrying so much.”

Yeah, Keith was tossing talking out the window. That was horrible, didn’t help at all. He ignored the brief look of disappointment on Lance’s face, turning his head to the door instead. 

It was harder to ignore Lance’s low, sarcastic voice. “Thanks, Keith. Never would have thought of that. Just stop worrying. That’ll fix everything.” 

He considered trying again, but the door slid open before he could. Two of the arena guards marched in, carrying a container between them. They dropped it to the ground in front of Keith with a dull thud. “Your armor is in here,” one of them said. They sounded bored and stilted, like this had been scripted. “As this is your first official fight at Arena Zeta, you may not have the best fitting armor. You are given what we have available. We at Arena Zeta wish you luck in the arena.” Both guards left without another word, without addressing either of them. 

In the silence left behind, Lance walked over to Keith’s side. They stared at the container until Keith knelt down to open it. Three metal latches sealed it closed. He flipped these, pushed the lid open, and then Lance was leaning down beside him, peering inside. The armor was a dull tan, placed in the box without any visible system. Keith removed two helmets that may fit, two heavy chest pieces, and an assortment of other pieces. Almost all of it seemed to be from separate sets, every piece was scraped or burned or chipped. One of the visors had a spiderweb crack covering half of it and Lance picked up the other one. “I need to see clearly,” he said when Keith shot him a dirty look. “All you gotta do is swing a sword.” 

“Fine,” Keith said. “Then…” He paused, glancing at the armor around him. There were only three braces for their arms and Keith snatched two of them up. “Then I get these.” 

The next few minutes were spent trying to fit armor over the loose clothing they still wore. Keith wasn’t sure if the arena ever offered fitted attire to wear underneath armor or if the new fighters just didn’t get that privilege but it annoyed him either way. The shirts they wore were short sleeved which left the heavy gauntlets to rest over their bare skin; he could already tell it’d get too hot and sticky when the fight started. He had to have Lance help him with the vambraces for his upper arms, and he in turn helped Lance fasten the third piece on one of his right arm. Lance insisted it was to absorb some of the recoil from the rifle. The greaves were tight on Keith and not tight enough for Lance. At least the chests and helmets seemed to fit well enough, though Keith would have liked for a clear view and maybe half a size smaller in chest armor. 

When they were both suited up, Lance was staring at his armored hands. “I miss our Paladin armor,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. 

Lance raised his head, eyes running over Keith’s armor clad body. A smirk ghosted his face. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You look better in red.” 

Keith rolled his eyes, moving around Lance to retrieve the sword. He wasn’t going to give that a response. He had barely lifted the sword when the door slid open again. 

The guards again. Neither of them spoke this time. One raised a hand, gesturing for them to follow. Keith didn’t spare a glance for Lance, just started across the room. He hadn’t reached the door before Lance was beside him, rifle in his hands. The guards led them to the arched door they had gone through the day  before, taking their places to either side of the heavy arch. “Wait here,” one said. “Introduction’s almost over with.” 

“Introduction…?” Lance repeated, his voice quiet. “What?”

Keith said nothing. He stood still, sword gripped tight in one hand as he stared ahead at the door. Nerves were exploding down his spine but it wouldn’t be a problem. In no time at all, it would just be adrenaline and focus. This was a fight, just like the many he had had to endure. The only difference was the arena. 

Lance was fidgeting beside him, muttering under his breath. 

In no time at all, the guard was pushing the door open. Keith headed forward immediately, moving with sure steady steps. He barely heard the low whine from Lance. The hall up to the arena was brightly lit this time, white overhead lights shining down on them to match the soft orange glow at the edge. With every step, Keith’s focus hardened into a sharp edged weapon, drawing him forward to the arena, to the fight waiting for them. He heard his heart steady in his ears, felt the sword heavy in his hand. Part of him was aware of Lance hovering near his left shoulder and he paused at the door to the arena. “Lance,” he said. “I’m gonna need you to focus.” 

“I am focused!” 

Keith tore his gaze from the door, cutting a sharp look at Lance. The other boy was visibly nervous, holding the gun to his chest, the barrel pointing up at an odd angle. “Then act like it,” Keith said. “I’m depending on you to cover me.” 

Lance frowned, brows drawn close together. “I know that. You think I don’t know what to do? Like I haven’t done that before?” 

“Whatever. Just don’t mess up.” He strode forward, shoving the door open and stepping into the arena. He heard Lance insulting him as he did. He ignored it, sweeping the arena for the aliens they were to face. 

His gaze caught on bright lights shining down and he squinted up at them for a second. The lights were connected to the massive beams crossing the roof of the arena. Those strange objects he had noted before were lights to make it easy to see what happened on the floor. Attention back on the floor, Keith flicked his eyes from cover to cover, stalking forward slowly with the sword raised. Where were the other aliens? Was this how it went everytime? The guards releasing pairs of fighters in and they just fought with no precursor? Or were he and Lance supposed to wait for something, some kind of signal? 

None of this made sense and Keith hated the feeling of waiting. Apprehension crawled through his veins, tensing his muscles. He was near the center now, standing close to one of the rusted machines as he gazed about the arena. “Come on,” he said to himself. “Show yourselves. Do something.” 

Nothing. Just silence. Out of curiosity, Keith’s gaze moved to the dome of the arena. It was clouded over, leaving the rows of seats behind it blurry. The forms behind it were obvious, aliens filling seats, gaps between them few and far between. So they had their audience. He wondered how this looked to everyone up there, him standing and doing nothing. 

Suddenly, a burst of fire lit up a cluster of rocks to his right. Keith looked back before he could stop himself. There was Lance, perched atop some kind of tall machinery, rifle raised and still firing in short bursts. He couldn’t see them from the ground, but Lance had climbed higher, had a different view. Keith moved forward, propelling himself as fast as possible over the rough dirt. The gunfire quit as Keith approached the rocks and he took the moment to skid around them, raising his sword in preparation. 

Behind the rocks was the small, thin aliens that had left the barracks earlier. The thing was huddled down, clutching two small blasters in two hands - it had four arms, spindly things. The other two were gripping the ground beneath it. It looked up at him with wide eyes. Keith struck immediately, lunging forward. The alien scrambled away much faster than he had anticipated, and the sword cut through empty air. He whirled, scowling, and spotted the alien crossing to another cropping of cover further away. He ran after it, circling the cover in a tighter circle. He waited for the alien to move again before he lunged at it, pushing for the sword to slice closer - and still missed. 

The stupid slippery alien was already halfway to the other wall. Keith heard gunfire as he took off after it but he didn’t see it; Lance must have found the other alien. That was fine. He could handle one alien while Keith chased this one down. It was weaving through cover, dodging every move Keith made. After four missed swings, he stopped, catching his breath as the alien disappeared somewhere ahead of him. 

This wasn’t working. He needed a new way to catch the thing. Slowly, Keith moved around the steel cover before him, craning his neck for an angle on Lance. The familiar figure was missing from the machinery he had climbed earlier. Frowning, Keith edged further from his cover, glancing from rock to rock, to steel jutting from the ground, to the machines. He was looking for Lance as well as keeping an eye out for the alien that was running from him. 

He spotted movement in the shadows to the left before the gunfire on the other side of the arena. Keith glanced from the rifle fire - from where Lance was - to the shadows, and lunged to the side. Rapid-fire bullets hit the ground where he’d been standing, lighting up the cover he had ducked behind. He scowled where he was, waiting for the bullets to pause. When they did, he bolted, sprinting between cover and hearing the alien’s pistol fire following him. 

Lance was up ahead, ducking out of the way of a large, bulky alien. Great. The one alien Keith hadn’t wanted to deal with in here. As he neared, light from overhead glinted off the alien’s three-fingered hands. Brass knuckles? Or the alien equivalent. Something to help it hit hard. Keith ducked behind a machine as gunfire lit up the ground too close for comfort. He moved fast, keeping low to the ground. Lance was being pushed closer and closer to the edge of the massive pit by the alien’s wild swings.

Keith leapt forward, slamming into Lance’s side, swinging his sword up to block the alien’s fists. Lance stumbled away from him with an excited chatter of, “Oh, Keith! You saved my life, thank you, thank you.“

“Get moving,” Keith snarled. “The other one has pistols.” He pushed against the alien until he could force it off. “That one’s on you.” He didn’t wait for Lance to respond, to even see if he was listening. Keith pressed ahead, swing after swing, aiming at the alien’s stomach or its arms. Right now, he wanted to force it back. It may be huge and strong, but it dodged out of his sword’s reach all the same. He pressured it back to the middle of the arena before letting the relentless swings slow. 

The alien dug its feet into the ground, fists raised, a grin on its face. 

Keith just now realized that this alien wasn’t wearing a bit of armor. How tough was its skin? 

It struck first, lunging out with one fist. Keith deflected it easy, sword sliding across the armored gauntlet. He sidestepped, blocked another attack, and swung the sword in an arc. It hit where he wanted - right across the alien’s shoulder. Barely a scratch in its wake. The alien’s grin widened, Keith grit his teeth, and everything else fell to the wayside. 

This was what he had been expecting. Adrenaline pumping through him, focus narrowing so sharp that he could see every sharp tooth bared at him, each speck of light glinting off the armored fists coming his way. He moved with ease, dodging and deflecting and swinging with more force than usual. He could do this, beat back an alien with skin tough as armor. 

Gunfire lit up the arena around him, the noise faded and distant. It didn’t matter. Whatever was going on wasn’t important. Keith was going to win this fight. He swung his sword hard, aiming low for his opponent’s neck. 

The alien ducked. Keith growled. He twisted, pulling the sword back with the intention of catching the alien with other side of the blade. 

Mid motion, a heavy fist hit him in the chest and he was slung backwards. His feet skidded in the dirt as he fought to regain balance. Before he could, another hard hit to his chest pushed him further. His back collided with a piece of rubble and he gave an involuntary shout at the spark of pain. He moved, pushing off the rubble with one hand and adjusting his grip on the sword with the other. He steadied himself, hissing at the pain along his back and shoulders. 

The alien wasn’t rushing him. It was gripping a large piece of steel with both hands, pulling. Keith watched as the steel was wrenched from the ground, clumps of dirt falling to the floor and sending a miniature cloud around the alien’s legs. 

Then the metal was being flung his way. On instinct, he ducked and dived to the side, getting well away from the flying piece of heavy steel. His gaze was locked on the alien. He didn’t see the metal land, didn’t even hear it hit the ground - 

The shocked shout, though, pierced his ears. Keith’s eyes widened and he turned his head fast. The metal had soared through the air and was headed straight for Lance. It only took seconds for it to connect, and then Keith watched, frozen, as Lance was thrown back with it. 

Lance hit the ground, hard, rifle flying from his hands. The metal landed on top of him with a sickening thud and Keith winced. He was half a step in Lance’s direction when gunfire sparked along his leg. Right. He was in a fight. Two-on-one now. He spared Lance another second long glance. The other boy didn’t move and Keith fought to ignore that.

He turned back to the fight before him instead, lunging at the large alien. It was harder now to dodge the strikes when bullets were aimed at his feet and half his attention was consumed by Lance. He landed a hit swung with all his strength, deep blue blood seeping from the cut slowly, and thought he’d kill every alien here if Lance wasn’t okay. Bullets were sinking into the armor over his legs, leaving small dings and dents in the dirty armor. Keith was moving slower, his strikes becoming less and less impactful. He couldn’t help it. Worry was building fast, the adrenaline fading back.

He wanted to check on Lance, wanted to turn from this fight and tend to his friend. Wanted to see that Lance was still breathing, just knocked out. 

Blows started connecting, fists aimed at his chest, at his stomach. Keith shrank back, free hand over his stomach. The aliens advanced. The small one with the pistols slithered up to his side in seconds and as he tried to take a swing at it, another fist slammed into his head. He crumpled to the ground with a low grunt, feeling the four-armed alien pulling the sword away from him. 

As he lay on the ground, Keith could only think that they lost this fight. And it wasn’t right. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Roughly ten minutes after the fight found Keith and Lance sitting in the training room. They had shed the armor, stuffed it back in the container that was still in there, and then they had sat down on it. Keith’s stomach hurt, the muscles in his arms burning dully. They’d ache by the next day. He sat with his arms crossed, glaring across the room at nothing.

Beside him, Lance was holding an ice pack to his head. One of the guards had handed it to him shortly after they were moved back in here. He had been conscious by the time they were escorted out of the arena, but the piece of metal had hit harder than Keith had thought. There were painful looking marks along his right arm but apparently his head hurt worse. 

They were silent, but Keith felt liable to explode.

They were Paladins of Voltron, defenders of the universe, and they had been beaten by some random aliens in a stupid arena. A large part of him was reflexively blaming Lance and he shot the boy beside him a glare. It withered almost instantly. 

Lance looked rough. He was bent forward, right arm over his knees as the left kept the ice pack up. He stared at the floor, eyes clouded and tired - every inch of him looked tired. He must have felt Keith’s eyes on him because he raised his gaze after only a few seconds. He started to talk, coughed, and cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “we lost.” 

Keith ripped his gaze away with a sigh. “Yeah. I noticed.” 

“What are we doing here?” 

“In the arena?” He looked back at Lance, frowning. “We’re supposed to be winning.”

Lance licked his lips and Keith dropped his gaze to the other boy’s mouth for a second longer than he should have. He looked away again as Lance spoke. “No. I mean, why are we in this room? What are we waiting for?” 

“I don’t know.” 

The only sound was Lance’s feet shifting on the dirt ground. He was moving, twisting where he sat. His arm brushed against Keith’s, his leg following suit. When Keith focused back on him, Lance was facing him but not looking at him. He had dropped the ice pack from his head and held it in his lap with both hands. His eyes were fixated on it. Keith was distracted by a slow moving drop of blood sliding down the side of his face to really notice the way Lance looked.

He spoke and it was obvious, though, how exhausted and distraught he was. “Hey, Keith?” 

Keith’s eyes were on Lance’s face in a second.

“In the arena, uh…” He was hesitating now, shoulders hunched. “Before I got hit with that thing… You were fighting the big guy.”

“Yeah,” Keith said. He reached forward without thinking, swiping at the blood on the side of Lance’s face. “What about it?”

Lance straightened a bit at Keith’s touch, eyes snapping up to meet Keith’s gaze. “Uhm. Just… you were fighting kind of… violently, y’know?” 

“No. I don’t know.” He pulled his hand back. The blood wasn’t dripping but there was a stain of it on Lance’s dark skin and that was annoying. 

“It was like… like you really wanted to hurt the guy,” Lance continued. 

Keith frowned again. “So? He wanted to hurt me.” 

Lance sighed, eyes drifting back down.

“He was going to push you off that ledge,” Keith said, leaning forward. “Why wouldn’t I try to hurt someone after that?” 

“We don’t know why they fight like that,” Lance said. He was picking at the ice pack in his hands, not meeting Keith’s gaze. Again. “But you know none of them asked to be here, right? They’re all ...all slaves. All of us are.” He looked up then, eyes heated. “I talked to some of them. They were snatched up and brought here like we were.”

“What’s your point, Lance?” 

“They’re not here to kill us,” Lance said. All traces of hesitancy was gone. “They were forced into this, and you’re going to go out there and fight like they want us dead.” He paused and, slowly, the anger in his eyes faded. “These aliens are innocents, Keith. These fights aren’t like with the Galra. We’re not fighting to save ourselves or planets or anything like that.

“We’re fighting because some sick aliens thought it’d be funny to make us do it. I’m not going to kill anyone we face out there, and I don’t care if they try to kill me. I won’t do it.” 

The look Lance was giving him was soft and honest, blue eyes hopeful. Staring into it, any shreds of anger Keith had misdirected at Lance melted.

“You won’t kill them, will you?” Lance asked. “Just knock them out or something like that. They don’t deserve to die.” 

Like he could say no right now. “Yeah,” Keith said. “Okay. I won’t kill anyone.” 

And Lance’s posture relaxed instantly. He smiled, a real one, a look as soft as his eyes. “Knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he said quietly. 

Keith felt himself smiling. He was pretty sure someone had punched him in the chest again. That was the only explanation for the burst of warmth there - any other possibility was not going to happen. Not here. Even when forced to face how attractive Lance was and his damn pretty eyes. 

“Can’t believe you think I’d kill them,” he said.

Lance’s smile grew sheepish and he shrugged his right arm. “Ahaha, had to make sure. Mostly just wanted to hear you say it.” 

Here, Keith should have retorted with something rude or dismissive. It’s what he usually did. It wouldn’t have mattered what he said because Lance would know he was joking, that no harsh words he said in that moment were serious. But he couldn’t find any words because Lance was smiling, and Lance’s eyes were sparkling, and Keith was openly staring. They had lost a fight, he had no idea what would happen next, but Lance looked so goddamn good that Keith didn’t care.

✦✦✦✦✦

As it turned out, they were left there to wait for Avilus. He was not happy. The fight, according to him, was a disappointing embarrassment. They cost a lot of money he said. They were marketed as a a team he said - and they didn’t act like it in battle. Which may not be wrong but, really? Lance bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from pouting at the words. They had never asked to be hyped up and sold.

“I registered you two as a duo,” Avilus snarled, prodding Keith in the chest with one massive finger, “because you’re both so annoyingly protective of one another. And then you” -another prod at Keith- “completely abandon and forget your partner in a fight.” 

Keith’s eyes were fiery and he met Avilus’s glare with his own. He didn’t snap back, though Lance was sure he wanted to if the tightness of his jaw and tension in his shoulders were anything to go by. That was good. Having to watch Keith be hurt by Avilus again was not something Lance was eager to see. 

Avilus straightened up to his full height; he had bent over just to get in Keith’s face and now he stood tall over the pair. “Two hundred thousand GAC,” he said. “In case you forgot how much I spent on you two.” 

Lance flinched. He hadn’t meant to, but just the price for them brought the reality of this in sharp clarity. 

“I could have come away with that auction with five new fighters for that price,” Avilus continued. He didn’t seem to have noticed Lance’s reaction. “Instead, I bought you two.” The amount of disgust and anger in the look Avilus sent to each of them in turn had Lance turning his gaze to the ground. “Properly trained and skilled. That’s what I was told. You two had matching armor and fought to be together, but you’re pathetic.” 

Avilus’s words spilled over Lance like ice. He knew he and Keith didn’t work well together one hundred percent of time, none of the Paladins did. There was no way, though, that he would ever tell Avilus about Voltron, about how he and Keith only seemed to work well together in short bursts. 

Honestly, he and Keith deserved a medal for getting along like they were.

Avilus told them they’d be training harder, that they would be the team he had paid for even if he had to force them to do it. He left the training room without another word, the door sliding shut as he passed. In the silence left after him, Lance raised the ice pack to his face again. His whole body ached but the little pack wasn’t exactly large enough for anything else. He glanced down at Keith to find the other boy still tense, eyes focused on the floor. 

Quietly, Keith said, “This is stupid.” 

Lance only tilted his head, pressing the dull burning pain into the ice pack. It was losing most of its cold, but still nice. He paused, then slowly raised his other hand to rest on Keith’s shoulder, pain flaring down his arm at the movement. He winced, but then Keith’s intense gaze was on him and he forced it back. 

“We work well together.” Keith said it like he truly believed it and Lance raised his eyebrows. “Like some stupid dick like him knows what we’re capable of.” 

“Geez, Keith,” Lance said, laughing. It was shaky, not at all like it should have been. Instead of diffusing Keith’s again, the fire in those dark eyes only increased. “Take it easy, man. It was one fight” 

That, apparently, was not what Keith wanted to hear. He scowled, shrugging Lance’s hand off. “A fight we lost,” he said. “We should have won that! Those guys were nothing!”

“I got hit by flying metal,” Lance told him. “That’s not nothing. That hurt. A lot, actually.” 

Just like that, Keith’s anger faltered. The look he was giving Lance softened with an edge of concern. “Oh. Shit.” One of his hands came up, reaching for Lance and stopping between them. “Are - are you okay?” 

Lance smiled. He knew it wasn’t as bright and cheerful as the ones he had been plastering on his face every day, but he was in pain and could afford to let the charade drop a little. “Eh, I’m not too bad.” He glanced down at Keith’s hand still hovering awkwardly between them before reaching it, tangling their fingers together. When he refocused on the other’s face, the anger was gone completely and a faint flush was high on his cheeks. Lance’s smile strengthened a bit more. “I’ve been hit worse,” he said. “I don’t have broken bones, so that’s good, right? I’ll be fine. Just gonna be kind of sore for a bit.” He let go of Keith’s hand, watching as Keith brought it to his lap. 

Mere seconds after that, a guard came and ushered them from the room. The ice pack was taken from Lance and they were ordered to go eat. It wasn’t time for any meals. Lance figured that out quick when they walked into a nearly empty cafeteria. He frowned, clutching at his side with one hand. Just one flight of stairs left him worn and aching everywhere - he hadn’t even noticed any pain in his side until the stairs. Keith took one look at him and sighed, pushing him to the nearest table. He brought two trays when he came back, sitting them down and then going back for glasses of water. 

“You’re being nice,” Lance commented. “What gives?’

Keith fixed him with a look that clearly said Lance was an idiot. “You’re injured,” he said. “If we were on the Castle, I’d force you into a healing pod.”

Lance sputtered, stabbing at his food with an alien utensil. It was a slab of meat today, shapeless and brown. “It isn’t that bad! I’m fine.” 

Keith just stared him down, silently daring him to say anything else. So Lance raised his hands in surrender, ignoring the fact that he still had a chunk of unknown meat speared on his fork… spork? Knife? Whatever. He shoved it in his mouth while maintaining eye contact with Keith, unable to stop the face he made at the taste of it. God, it was horrible. 

At least his suffering made Keith laugh, the serious stare on the other’s face crumbling in seconds. That was some kind of victory in Lance’s book. He could count the number of times he made Keith laugh on one hand. It made the terrible food easier to stomach. Which was a good thing.

Right after they finished eating, another guard ushered them right back to the same training room they had left. The container that the armor had been in was gone. Lance exchanged a look with Keith before the door to the room slid open. Avilus, of course. He seemed to be a better mood. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t glaring at them anymore. 

Still, the sight of the alien sent a strong wave of unease through Lance.  Just like always. 

Avilus was not joking about making them train more. He retreated to the room behind the window before telling them to fight. Hand-to-hand, he ordered. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, threats of beatings hanging over them before Keith stalked to one side of the room and Lance to the other. It was over fast. Lance wasn’t good at close combat - he used guns for a reason - and now, he very quickly found himself pinned to the ground by Keith. He tried not to wince or grimace of show any of the pain pulsating through his aching limbs, raising his hands in defeat and offering a smile to Keith. “You’re only better than me at this one thing,” he said, trying for a joking tone and missing it entirely. 

Keith’s posture was stiff. He had knelt by Lance when he pinned him, one hand to Lance’s chest, holding him to the dirt; the other was clenched in a tight fist at his side. There were flecks of concern and worry in his eyes.

Avilus ordered them back up to repeat the spar again. And again. And again. Each time found Lance defeated, beaten back by Keith. It took less time for him to surrender with each ‘fight’. The bruises and aches all over his body from the arena fight were screaming at him now and he couldn’t stop himself from gritting his teeth at the pain. He was panting after the fifth time Keith beat him. This time, he was pinned to the wall, one of Keith’s arms pressed against his chest. This close, he could easily see the pain in Keith’s eyes. They were close enough that Lance could speak to him without Avilus snapping at them. 

“Hey,” he said between breaths. “It’s cool. This is nothing. I’ll be fine.“

Keith shook his head, stepping away. As soon as he did, Lance slid down to the floor with a groan, rubbing at his sore arm. Keith was looking at him, and, wow, that was definitely regret coloring his face. He closed his eyes briefly and when they opened again, Keith was staring at Avilus fiercely. “I’m not doing this anymore,” he said. 

Avilus was silent. 

“You can’t make me fight him,” Keith continued. “He’s hurt and this is only making it worse. How is this supposed to help us? You said we’d train!” He made no mind to Avilus approaching him. 

“This is training,” Avilus countered. He left the room to stand before Keith, staring down at him, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s training your friend how to take a beating and get back on his feet.” 

Lance had been watching the exchange from the floor but he saw how anger flowed through Keith at those words. He knew what was coming next: a really, really pissed off Keith was about to start yelling and hurling insults at a huge, bulky alien who had no qualms about beating either of them. An alien who could easily crush Keith’s head if he wanted. Lance’s eyes widened and he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stabs of pain. He stood next to Keith and the instant his friend’s mouth opened, Lance slammed a hand over it. His other arm was tight around Keith’s shoulders, restraining him in case he tried to do something stupid like throw a punch. 

Keith was giving him one hell of a glare.

“Don’t listen to him,” Lance said, forcing a smile. It felt painful and was so clearly fake even Avilus looked at him like he was crazy. “He’s just tired. And cranky. Keith is always cranky, y’know, especially after fights and we did kind of have one today. He’s really upset about it!” He felt the heat of Keith’s glare on him double and backtracked. “Uhh, uhm, no. No, no he isn’t. Upset? No. I meant, uh … he’s just…” 

He glanced back at Keith and his stomach flipped. He had never, in his life, though he’d see so much worry on this angry idiot of a boy before and it made him falter for words. He pulled back from Keith just to rub awkwardly at his neck with his right arm. 

Avilus was laughing to himself, a low, unsettling sound. “See there?” he said. “You can get back on your feet, Lance.”

It was the first time he had said either of their names. Lance hated it immediately.

“Now,” the alien continued, “we will work on your marksmanship. You clearly lack talent when an enemy gets close, but we can address that later.” His eyes flicked to Keith. “As for you… I believe I’ll pit you against some of our stronger solo fighters. That should give you the practice you need to hone your attacks.” He paused. “Your next fight is in four days, boys. Starting tomorrow, the both of you are running drills together. I want you as the team I was promised. Understand me?”

Neither of them responded. Avilus took their silence for agreement. He smiled at them both, told Lance to stay put, and swept out the room with a hand around Keith’s arm. Keith was spitting out curses, looking at Lance over his shoulder. Lance gave him a wave, a confused smile crossing his face, and dropped it the instant the door shut again. 

He wanted to rest, to sleep for days, curl up in a ball in an actual comfortable bed. When they had eaten, the idea of being put in a healing pod for aches and pains was stupid, but now he’d take that too. It’d relieve the pain so swiftly and since he just wanted to sleep anyway, the lingering tiredness of the pods would only help him out. A win-win deal. 

Too bad he was stuck here. He nudged the dirt with one foot, frowning, and then there was a guard in the room with him. An alien with light pink skin and large eyes with yellow irises. Dark hair was pinned back, spikes of it framing the back of her head and peeking around her ears. The tips of her ears even have little tufts of fur on them. She gave him a skeptical look, her eyes wandering over him. “You look pathetic,” she said. “Avilus bought you?” 

Lance made a face. 

“Take that as a yes.” There was a rifle on her back along with the one in her hands. “That bastard always works his fighters half to death.” She shrugged, holding out the gun to him. “Take this. I’m here to train you.”

He took it with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t need training,” he said. “I’m the sharpshooter of my team.” A smile crept up and he ran with it, hefting the gun to his shoulder and winking. Couldn’t help it. She was pretty.

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, “Were. You  _ were _ the sharpshooter of a team.” 

And just like that, Lance’s bravado shattered. He dropped the gun from his shoulder with a frown. “I’m still on a team.” She only raised her eyebrows. “I _ am _ .” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” she said. “Just follow me, alright?”  She turned on her heel, walking fast and leaving Lance to trail after. The guard led him past the door to the arena and into a long, slowly curving hall. He paused momentarily - the sheer size of this place kept surprising him - and then picked up his pace to keep up with the guard. 

Heavy doors lined the right side of the hall at regular intervals. There were guards at some doors, aliens in drab clothing at others. The guard led him past an open door and Lance took a peek inside to see a much nicer, cleaner, brighter version of where he and Keith were sleeping. Judging by the armored aliens inside it, these were guard barracks. He caught sight of a large screen on one wall, some kind of alien show on it, before he passed. 

The guards had television. How unfair was that. 

He turned his attention back to the guard he was following and just barely managed to stop himself from running into her. She had stopped before one of the closed doors, her hand to the wall. A soft white light was emanating from the wall. Her yellow eyes were on Lance, though, brows raised in a curious yet unimpressed stare. Lance met her gaze with a shrug and she rolled her eyes. “Get in,” she said, nodding to the door. 

It slid open and Lance was staring down a long empty room. “What is this?” he asked, taking slow steps inside. 

“Firing range,” the guard answered. The door shut behind her as she followed him through. She didn’t bother to look at him, missing the frankly awed look on his face. There was a console in the wall by the door and she was busy pressing keys displaying alien scripts. “Avilus said you need practice, and despite what you think, I have to do what he says.” She shot him a look then, in time to catch him snapping his mouth shut.

He did not need training, and he had been about to tell her that. Instead, he said, “Why do you have to do what he says?” Not like Avilus had paid for her. Not like she had to fight for the guy. 

“Slave owners have more say over us,” she said. She frowned when he grimaced at the word ‘slave’, but said nothing about it. She pulled the rifle from her back instead, turning to face the range. “Now stop asking questions and let’s get this over with.” 

The arena’s firing range, like most of the technology Lance had seen so far in space, consisting of bright holographic targets. They varied from vivid green to a blinding orange, colors changing with their size and speed. The harder ones to hit were the green. The easiest were slow-moving blues. It was actually kind of therapeutic to stand there, focusing on shooting targets and nothing else. The guard had him go through programmed drills, over and over and over, with short respites every so often. During one resting period, he flirted and she scowled, nose wrinkling, telling him to shut up and pay attention to what he was doing. 

During another, he pestered her into telling him her name. “Khattala,” she said. She slammed her hand on the console again, making the targets pop back to life. “Get back to shooting.” 

Lance grinned at her. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said, ignoring the targets for now. “Really fitting for a beautiful lady.”

She looked like she wanted to kill him. 

The difficulty of the drills increased after that. Targets moved faster, more erratically. It was hard to pick up on patterns. He missed shots and Khattala started ordering him to land his hits. She marched over to him, adjusting his stance and the grip on the rifle with rough hands. The recoil of the rifle was tougher to deal with than the one from his bayard - which, to be fair, he usually fired while wearing armor. He felt it in his shoulder as it kicked, the sensation a twinge at first, growing into a pulse that radiated dull aches. 

The longer he stood there, the more obvious all his aches and pains became. His body hurt, his muscles ached, his arms were sore from holding the gun up for so long. His eyes hurt, too, and he wished dearly for sleep as he flitted his gaze from target to target. His shots kept going wild. Khattala kept adjusting his stance when he slipped, forcing him into the best position. She continued to berate him when she let him rest, and he continued to flirt. 

Couldn’t stop himself, really. He was too tired to bother keeping a filter on every stupid thought that flew through his head.  

When she finally let him go, it was past time for lunch and every inch of him felt weighed down and exhausted. Khattala took the rifle back, walking him back to the lounge. She stayed there, dropping into a seat and throwing the rifle beside her. He saw her cross her arms, leaning back with a frown etched into her face, and then he headed down the staircase. Despite the way his stomach was growling, Lance ignored it to trudge through the barracks door. 

Now that he had gotten a glimpse of what the guard’s living quarters were like, his own were more depressing than ever. Dim and dreary, way too crowded and loud. The aliens chatted amongst themselves, congregating in small groups around the room. 

Lance made it to his and Keith’s bunks and didn’t even bother trying to climb to his own. He fell onto Keith’s instead, kicking his boots off. He lay on his stomach first, but his chest twinged painfully when he breathed, so he rolled onto his side instead, curling in the blankets. Just a nap before he ate, that sounded best. Then a shower, where he could coax as much hot water out of the arena as he possibly could. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until his eyes snapped open to the bed moving beside him. Keith lay on his back, one hand on his stomach, the other pulling through his hair, still wet from a shower. Lance followed the movement with tired eyes. “I want a shower,” he mumbled. “Bet you used all the hot water, though. Asshole.” 

Keith looked his way when he spoke. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lance whined softly. He had, at some point in his sleep, taken to clutching the pillow he had rested his head on. He buried his face into it now as his stomach roared. 

The smallest smile crossed Keith’s face. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you for dinner.” 

He honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be able to. His hunger was insistent, nearly painful. A brief thought crossed his mind - talking to Keith about the arena, about fights and Avilus - but it was lost as another growl ripped through his gut. Then Keith was sitting up, moving to throw a blanket over Lance, and he closed his eyes. Sleep was pulling him down fast. A hand was in his hair, nails against his scalp. He hummed and the motion paused, continued, and he was asleep in seconds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> khattala is my favorite alien expect her to show up often hah im not sorry
> 
> also, lance gets the rougher treatment for a while? my bad its unintentional. things should even out between them soon enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when your alien boss is angry  
> (except boss means owner)

The second fight didn’t go any better.

They got their asses handed to them. 

Three days before they walked into the arena again, Lance woke up feeling like he’d been run over by a bus and then crushed by a freight train for good measure. If he thought he was sore before he had fallen asleep, he was dead wrong. Every single nerve in his body was screaming. Every atom, even. He was falling apart and all he had done was move an inch. Lance had groaned and whined and begged Keith to kill him because he was already dying, he was done, life was over and he was a dead, lifeless pile of aches and pains and bruises. 

Keith had responded by shoving him out of bed onto the ground, only to look slightly alarmed when Lance’s response was just to lay there and whimper. Keith looked at Lance on the floor, and Lance may have mustered up the energy to look as pathetically sad as possible, with amped up puppy-dog eyes and everything, just to watch Keith get flustered. Keith said, “I, uh… uhm, okay. I’m gonna… I’ll go see if I can find something to help,” and then he scurried off. 

Lance had giggled to himself on the floor for all of two seconds before wincing. Both shoulders ached to hell and back. When Keith returned a few minutes later, he had a bottle of some kind of lotion, said a medic had given it to him. Supposed to alleviate the pain and speed up healing, he said. Lance marvelled at the fact that Keith had found medics, took it, and slowly and painfully made his way to the bathrooms where he could strip in peace.

There wasn’t even time to really think if the space lotion would work. As soon as he got it tucked away in the barracks - inside the pillow he had used last night - he and Keith were whisked away by a guard again. They walked halfway down the circular hall, to the point that the end of it was actually visible, and then the guard put them in a room where Avilus was already waiting. 

Then the drills began. Simple warm up drills at first, then a pair of guards entered, and Avilus told them to fight the guards. They were given their weapons, the guards sported equal variations - one had a pistol, the other held a knife. The only difference between this and the practice fights they had done previously was that Avilus circled them, stopping the fight and correcting them when he saw something wrong. 

Predictably, Keith was wound up and tense before too long. He dove forward to attack, swiftly dodging the knife of the guard. Lance hung back, watched him, and fired at the other guard if they tried to shoot at him. Same tactic as before - distract the enemy, let Keith get in close. At least with the guards, he wasn’t worried about only landing warning shots at their feet. The guards wore hefty armor. The laser fire just kind of hit the armor with a dull noise and a quiet sizzle. 

But Avilus stopped that immediately. He put a massive hand on Keith, ignoring the pained noise Keith made. “You’re becoming sloppy,” he said. “Focus.”

“Don’t tell me to focus,” Keith hissed. 

Avilus ignored him to turn to Lance instead. “And you need to stop waiting for your friend to do all the work. You have a gun and you know how to use it. Aim to kill your opponents. It’s - “

“What they’d do,” Lance finished, hands tightening on the rifle. “Yeah. I got that.” 

Avilus’s smile was broad and creepy. “Then stop shooting to distract them. Attack them. Hurt them. Win.” 

For three days, that was all they did. Exercise drills, training against guards, listening to Avilus point out mistakes. Lance was worn out every evening, ached every morning, and had never wanted to take a full days break more than he did now. Maybe multiple days. 

The morning of their next fight came too quickly. Lance used more of the weird space medical lotion to soothe the aches in his arms and legs, followed a guard to a training room, and then he and Keith were donning suits of ill fitting, mismatched armor. Unlike the previous fight, neither of them spoke. Lance collected the rifle from the table without looking at Keith. The air in the room was thick with tension, and really, Lance couldn’t find it in himself to dispel it. If he even could. 

Days of training, and all it had really done was leave Lance worn out and Keith so prickly he was impossible to approach. Lance looked over to see Keith glaring down at the sword in his hand. Oh, good. Definitely his favorite mood of Keith’s and totally the easiest to deal with. Lance sighed. “Hey, Keith,” he started.

The door slid open before he could continue, guard there to take them to the arena. Keith gave him a brief look of curiosity before leaving the room. It wasn’t until the entry to the arena was opened to them that Keith said anything. “What’d you want to say? Back in that room, I mean.” 

Lance glanced at him - Keith’s eyes were focused ahead of them, on the arena. “Just wanted to make sure you're gonna work as a team.” 

“What? I know what to do.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He hoped he didn’t end up smashed into the ground this time. “As long as you don’t do what you usually do.” 

Keith stopped two feet from the entrance, rounding on Lance instead. “What are you talking about?” His eyes were sharp behind the cracked glass of the helmet. 

Lance shrugged, eyes drifting from Keith to the arena. “Oh, y’know. The whole ‘I’m Keith, I’m the best’ thing where you just forget that you have teammates and do whatever you want like some reckless asshole.” 

“I don’t do that!” 

The impulse to argue was strong. Lance made a face to hold it back before stepping around Keith and into the arena. “Whatever. Don’t forget I’m out there too.”  He didn’t have time to gauge Keith’s reaction - he heard Keith start speaking again, footsteps close behind him. 

Not even two steps into the arena and intense gunfire lit up the ground in front of them both. Dirt exploded into knee-high clouds, and whatever Keith had been saying was drowned out immediately. Lance dove to the right, kneeling behind the first piece of metal cover. Keith was barely a foot ahead of him, crouched behind a rock and peering around one side of it. “Off to a great start,” Lance muttered. Without comms in the helmets, he could complain all he wanted and Keith would never hear a word. On one hand, it was great. 

On the other - as in, when Lance desperately needed help like the fight three days ago - it was very, very bad. 

Right now, he watched Keith lean forward on one foot, caught the shift of the armor over his hand as his grip tightened on the sword. Keith was getting ready to pounce, either to another bit of cover or to whoever they were fighting. As much as Lance would prefer the latter, he knew enough about how Keith fought. He took a breath to steady himself, then turned, raising the rifle to peek over the metal. 

He wished he could tell the idiot to wait without yelling it, because yelling would probably clue in these aliens to what was about to happen, and then Keith would be in danger and yelling at Lance at the same time. This whole fight was already a mess. 

Keith leapt. 

Lance paused all of half a second, tracking Keith to see which alien he was after. He fired. 

The lasers from the gun hit right on target, striking the larger of the two aliens in the chest. The alien jolted backwards, laser fire leaving a smoking mark on the armor it wore. It dove behind a machine. Lance was already moving, jumping from the cover he was behind to another. He looked at Keith as he did, watched as the sword cut a clean slice into the smaller alien. The alien didn’t even pause. It held one of those strange alien weapons, something like a mace if a mace was attached to a chain and glowing purple. 

It reminded Lance of the Galra. A sick purple light swinging toward his ally, his friend. 

Lance switched targets without thinking. He saw the slice of purple aimed for Keith and fired, shots hitting the alien’s slim body in quick succession. The alien jerked with the impact and Keith struck. The sword hit its arm, the strange weapon was dropped to the ground, and that should be it. One alien down. Lance turned, searching for the second, and watched a cluster of lasers hit Keith straight in the back. He called out to him on reflex - no way Keith could hear him over the gunfire. 

The second alien was behind him somewhere, had managed to sneak around while Lance was watching Keith. Lance had to find it, deal with it, stop it from shooting at Keith. He crept backwards toward another piece of cover, glancing back at Keith’s fight for a second. 

And watched as that damn purple weapon struck Keith hard in the shoulder. Keith stumbled, arm dropping, sword dragging in the earth. 

Lance ripped his eyes away, scanning the area for the other alien. He hoped Keith was handling himself. He spotted the glint of the gun before recognizing the shadow behind a rock as the hulking mass of its alien wielder. He fired, holding down the trigger and keeping the gun steady. The alien withdrew back behind the rock and Lance spared another brief glance to check on Keith. 

Not good. Keith had switched the sword to his left hand, but his right arm was hanging there. Dislocated, maybe. He hoped not. 

There wasn’t time to worry about it. By the time he looked away again, the alien with the gun was moving - toward him, this time. He backpedaled, glancing behind him for cover and back to the alien in quick succession. Never spent too long focused on either one. Didn’t want to find cover only to be blindsided, didn’t want to be keep the alien in his sight only to fall over a rock. The alien jumped onto a rock, turned the gun on him, and Lance turned and ran. He felt the impact of laser fire hitting his back. The armor did little to absorb it, sending waves of pain through his body. The piece of machinery he dove behind was on its side, huge treads taking the next lasers for him. 

It was also near where Keith was still fighting. That alien may be smaller, but it moved its weapon with ease, and Keith did not look his best dodging the swings of it. Probably due to having one useless arm.

Lance took a moment to spray gunfire at the alien’s feet, making t back up and letting Keith get a good swing in. Then he returned to his own problem, peeking around the machine to take potshots before pulling back to avoid having his head shot off. Each time, the alien was closer. He could do this, though, absolutely. He faced murderous Galra and piloted a huge space lion. He could damn well take out one alien with a gun.

Never mind the fact that he didn’t have the giant lion right now. 

Or that his team of five was down to two.

Or that Keith had just hit the dirt beside him. 

He nearly dropped his gun whirling around to take in the situation. It hadn’t even been a minute and yet, Keith was on his back, sword lying inches from his hand. Keith rolled onto his side and stretched for it, but then the alien was there, weapon raised. 

Lance didn’t think. He dropped the gun, propelled himself forward, and caught the weapon in both hands before it could land. His weapon was somewhere behind him, his body bent over Keith.  

This close, he could hear Keith. “What are you doing?” 

“Saving you.” He wasn’t sure, but that weapon had been aimed for Keith’s head. Wherever it hit, it would hurt. This was fine. 

“You’re an idiot,” Keith said. He had grabbed the sword again, though, and he was sliding out from under Lance. Which was good because this alien had a surprising amount of strength in that skinny frame. 

In two seconds, the fight was pretty much over. 

Keith was getting to his feet when the alien pulled, hard, and yanked Lance forward. Lance’s legs hit Keith, tripped him, sent him back to the dirt. Over the sound of Keith’s cursing, the other alien had open fire on both of them. Lance turned his head to spy his gun underneath one of the alien’s feet, and then something hard collided with the side of his head. He sagged against Keith and had no idea how the rest of it went. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Lance came to while being dragged from the arena. It felt like he was drifting, slow and painful. Things were blurred and he squinted, blinked, and the blurred figure before him solidified. Someone with dull brown armor, holding onto one arm. He blinked again - right. That was Keith. Wounded and hurt and not wearing red like he was supposed to be. Another couple seconds passed, a few shaky steps forward, and Lance looked to his right because if that was Keith up ahead, who the hell was moving him? 

A guard, one with pink skin and dark hair. He knew her, but he couldn’t pull her name past the thundering pain in his skull. She had an arm around his waist, his arm over her shoulders. 

His head was split open, he was positive. No way it’d feel that bad otherwise. 

Was he dying? He couldn’t die here. There was a universe to save out there and he was a part of that. He spoke and his voice was quiet. “Am I... dying?”

The guard’s yellow eyes flicked to him and then back to the exit. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Just a little head injury, nothing big.” 

“I already knew that. Is it gonna kill me?” 

She didn’t answer, just lugged him to the door and to the other side. Keith was standing there, flanked by guards, silent. Lance jerked in his direction but the guard holding him tightened her grip. He whined uselessly instead. “Get a medic down here,” she said to one of the others. 

The other guard looked over at them. “You sure Avilus is gonna let that happen?” 

“If he wants a fighter with major head trauma, he’s an idiot. Get a medic.” She waited until the guard headed down the hall to pull Lance away from the arena door and into one of the training rooms. Inside, she let him go and he instantly sat on the ground, raising a hand to his head and hitting the side of a helmet. The pretty pink-skinned guard was ushering Keith inside now, and Lance watched as she wrestled with him to get at his arm. “It’s injured,” she snapped. “Stop fighting and let me see it! I’m here to help you, you idiot.”

“I can do it myself,” Keith said. 

“Not with one arm, you can’t,” she said. 

Lance wished his head wasn’t hurting so much. Their arguing was akin to sharp knives in his skull, twinges of pain accenting every harsh word. He watched the guard - Khattala, her name was Khattala, he remembered it with a flash - as she took Keith by his injured arm. Keith growled to cover up a noise of pain, and then yelled when she snatched his arm and twisted it towards her. Lance winced, hunching his shoulders. He reached up to pull the helmet off, a tingle of pain wrapping around his shoulders as he did; it was barely there compared to the pounding of his head. 

The helmet was cracked along the side. Lance ran a finger over it, frowning, as Keith and Khattala continued to argue. He glanced up at them.

She was standing with Keith’s arm in one of her hands. The other one held something small and gray, something with a needle that she stuck into his shoulder. He wrenched himself away then, and she crossed her arms, scowling. Keith was holding onto his right shoulder, twisting the injured arm. “I never asked for your help,” Keith was saying. “I didn’t need it.” 

“You’re a huge child,” Khattala said. “How the hell did you ever survive off your planet?” 

Keith’s retort was cut off as the door slid open again, a guard letting another alien in. This one wore a silver coat over the same dull clothes he and Keith had been given. A small, stocky alien with wide eyes that stared unblinkingly at Lance. The alien held a case in one hand and strode forward with waddling steps. “At least he isn’t bleeding,” it said, voice croaking and fractured. 

Lance said, “Man, you’re ugly,” without thinking. 

The alien’s eyes narrowed with vertical lids. “He’s rude,” it said, turning its whole body to look back at Khattala. “Do I have to fix him?”

She nodded once. 

The alien sighed. The case was set down by Lance’s feet and opened, revealing strange gleaming instruments. Lance looked at them, then at the alien, then at Keith and Khattala. Keith was pulling the mismatched armor off, face set in a glare, eyes focused on the floor as the armor piled up. 

Khattala met his eyes. “Behave,” was all she said. 

Lance wanted to question that, but then the ugly short alien was in his face, holding something to his eyes. A little device that beeped, a single green light flashing before something scanned his face. He jerked, winced when his head throbbed again, and then the alien was muttering to itself as it pulled the device away. Another, larger, instrument was pulled from the case. Everyone in the room was silent but the alien as it pressed buttons along the medical instrument and raised it to the side of Lance’s head. “Stay still,” it ordered. 

He listened, gaze so intent on the strange device that his eyes nearly crossed. 

This, he thought, was the sort of thing people on Earth rambled about when they said they had been abducted. Maybe a different kind of alien, but definitely this kind of creepy thing used for medical experiments. He steeled himself for more pain.

The strange device didn’t hurt at all, and that was weird. The alien brought it to the side of his head that was pounding and throbbing, and a slow, building warmth emanated from it. The longer the warmth grew, the more pain eased from him. And as the pain let up, everything grew sharper and more defined. Like how Khattala’s tufted ears were pointed down, near her skull. The bored expression on her face, the disconnect of her yellow eyes that spoke of how she wasn’t really looking at him at all, her mind somewhere else entirely. The ugly alien’s striking resemblance to a frog or a salamander, the light sheen to its skin. 

And Keith. The anger in the sharp lines of his face was palpable, rage boiling beneath the surface of his skin. The alien was putting its instruments away, and when the case closed, Keith’s eyes darted to Lance. All that anger directed at him and only him. 

Lance sighed. His head felt better, but the aches of his body were still there, and now Keith was angry at him. “Great,” he muttered to himself. “I love angry Keith.” 

The alien was close enough to hear him, but it didn’t even look back at him. Keith on the other hand, turned so fast he probably had whiplash. “What was that?” he said. 

Lance raised his eyebrows. “Jeez, Keith. Calm down.” 

The alien left the room. Khattala followed. The door slid shut after them. 

Left with Keith, Lance met his angry gaze and, suddenly, was so tired his body felt weighed down. He didn’t want to deal with Keith’s anger, because Keith’s anger was going to make him angry, and they’d fight and argue, and then everything would be awkward and tense. Being trapped in a space arena was bad enough without his only friend there hating him. He met Keith’s fiery stare with his face schooled into a carefully calm expression. And waited. 

Seconds passed. Keith looked away, shut his eyes, took a long deep breath. When he opened them again, he looked slightly less like he wanted to kill someone. “How’s your head?” he said, not looking at Lance. 

That wasn’t what he had expected. “Oh, y’know…” Lance leaned back where he sat, supporting himself on his hands. “Not as bad as before. I mean, I can actually look at you without physically hurting, so that’s a definite improvement.” 

Keith rolled his eyes, gaze landing back on him. “I ask if you’re okay,” he said, “and you insult me. Really, Lance?”

Lance frowned. “What? No, dude. I’m serious.” 

“I can’t believe you.” 

“What? You want a play-by-play of my head injury?”

“Not that.” 

Lance only stared at him.  

“Why the hell would you do that?” The look he was giving Lance was filled with sparks and fire and deadly. “You could’ve killed yourself!” 

It took a few long seconds for it to make sense. 

“I had everything under control.” 

Keith was angry about the arena. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

Lance risked himself to save Keith, and Keith was angry. Why was he not surprised? “I saved you,” Lance said. He kicked out with one foot, sending the cracked helmet rolling across the floor. “Sorry, I guess. Next time, do you want me to watch you get hurt from afar or cheer you on when you kill yourself trying to defeat an alien?” 

He could practically see blood vessels bursting in Keith’s fury. “Are you serious? You didn’t save me!”

Lance scowled. “Fuck off, dude.” 

“You got yourself injured!” Keith said, voice raised over his. “You tripped me, fell on me, and cost us the match.” 

“Is that all you care about?” Lance raised a hand to gesture at Keith. “You losing is more important than me saving your life?”

“You didn’t save my life!”

“You don’t know that!” He was on his feet in seconds, taking steps forward to Keith on shaking legs. Dammit. Stupid aches. “That alien was aiming for your head, Keith. Or your back, or - or something that would have left you dead! Or dying!” 

“I can take a hit,” Keith said, glare unwavering. “Unlike you.” 

“I got hit in the head!” 

“Exactly!”

“What? You - !” Lance reached out to take Keith by the shoulders, stopped halfway there, and shoved his hands through his hair instead. “You’re so frustrating,” he said, voice low. 

Keith scoffed. “Like you’re any better.” 

Lance was stumbling for a response when the door opened once again and Avilus stepped through. A guard was following him - not Khattala, not anyone Lance recognized. He looked from Keith to Avilus, his frustration at his friend edging into wariness. Avilus was all about winning, had pushed them for days, hours upon hours of nonstop training. This wasn’t going to be good. 

“Boys,” Avilus said. 

Even that one word sounded bad. Lance stepped away from Keith, backing further into the room. He glanced from Avilus to Keith - the other boy’s glare was focused solely on Avilus now. 

“Another loss,” Avilius continued. “This is disappointing. I was willing to forgive the first, but I will not stand for this one.” He looked between the pair, cold stare lingering on Lance. He tensed under the alien’s gaze, but Avilus looked at the guard and waved toward Keith with one hand. “Take him to do more practice. Clearly, he isn’t as skilled as he’s led me to believe.” 

Keith scowled. “More training? Now?” He pulled away from the guard advancing on him.

“Yes, now,” Avilus said. “Until you can dodge or parry every attack, land your hits, destroy your enemies - you will train. That show out there today was an embarrassment. Your enemy strikes you once and you lose control of your arm? It’s pathetic.” 

“I can’t help that,” Keith said, “if my armor isn’t good enough to absorb the blows.”

Avilus ignored him, falling silent as the guard dragged Keith from the room. The door shut behind them, and Lance had no choice but to look anywhere but Avilus. The alien’s gaze alone was unnerving, but he knew nothing good could come from being singled out like this and it made his heart pound. “And you, Lance,” Avilus said, voice low and rumbling.

Lance gulped. “Uh… me?” 

“What exactly do you think you’re doing here?” Avilus started forward, large steps to bridge the distance between them. It had Lance taking quick steps back. “I can understand Keith’s failures. He simply needs to be honed to precision and his mistakes should lessen. You, however, have no excuses.” 

He was already replaying the entire fight in his mind, trying to pinpoint exactly what Avilus saw as a glaring mistake. Taking his eyes off the one with the gun, for sure, but he had fixed that! He fought back and refocused. It wasn’t his fault that the alien pushed him back. “Uhm - “

“No excuses,” Avilus repeated. “I don’t want to hear it. Just understand that I am severely disappointed that I paid for the pair of you when you’re behaving like this. I should have bought Keith on his own and left you to fail in someone else’s name.” He was still moving forward. Lance’s back hit the wall and he froze, eyes wide and trained on Avilus. “You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

“To fight,” Lance said instantly. 

Avilus was going to hit him. He understood that with sudden clarity, like a shot through his heart. 

Avilus was going to hurt him.

“To win.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” He glanced from Avilus to where his rifle was lying in the dirt. It was far from where he stood now. “I’m here to win.” 

“Then why would you pull such a stunt?” The alien was growling now, his words colored heavy with rage and displeasure. 

“What… what stunt exactly?” He could reach the gun if he ducked around Avilus, maybe. It was really his only chance here because clearly Avilus was up to no good. Lance had been subjected to the strength behind those meaty fists already and had no desire for it to happen again. 

Avilus lip was curled in a snarl. He reached out with one massive hand, and Lance took the chance. He pushed off the wall, ducked past Avilus’s arm, and launched himself forward. He kept his eyes locked onto the gun, intent on reaching and… and what? Dodging a massive alien? Maybe he could shoot Avilus in his eyes or something. Run away while Avilus was in pain. 

A hand snagged the armor he still wore. The force of it stopped him with a jerk. In one fluid motion, Avilus yanked Lance back to him, lifted him up by the back of the chest piece, and threw him onto the ground. The air left his lungs in a rush. Avilus was glaring down at him and he had a second to wonder how the armor would hold up to the brute force of this alien before a large, flat foot slammed into his chest. He wheezed, fingers scraping in the dirt on the floor. 

“You know very well what you did,” Avilus said. The chest piece pushed into his ribs as Avilus put more pressure on it. 

Lance whined. He reached up to grasp at Avilus’s ankle, fingers sliding uselessly over rough, bumpy skin.

“You never - _ never _ \- drop your weapon.” 

In the back of his mind, past the panic exploding to life as he fought to draw in enough air, Lance could see himself abandoning the rifle in the arena. That made sense. Avilus was angry about the same thing Keith was - that Lance would let himself be defenseless to save Keith from further harm. 

“You never turn your back on the enemy.” The foot lifted from his chest and Lance took a deep breath in. He hardly had time to react before Avilus was reaching to grab the front of the armor, jerking him off the ground only to slam him back into it. His head hit the dirt and he winced. At least he was left to lie there, Avilus releasing him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” Avilus was saying, crouching down by Lance, “but I will not stand for this. Keep your weapons on you. Keep your focus on the fight, on your enemies.” 

He spoke before he could stop himself. “Keith was in danger! I had to help him.” 

Avilus brought his fist down on Lance’s unprotected stomach. “You have a gun,” he said. “Use it! If your ally is in danger, you shoot! It isn’t that difficult.” Every few words, he struck another defenseless place. The uncovered shoulder, thighs, stomach again. It hurt, pain rippling out from the impact each time. “You lost that match. Not Keith. You.” 

Lance was curling in on himself. 

Avilus struck him in the lower back. “The second you dropped your gun, that match was lost.” More hits, punches that hurt far more than they would have from another human. “You put yourself at risk. You put Keith at risk.” The blows almost felt lazy, like Avilus wasn’t using his full strength. “You embarrassed me, you embarrassed yourself.” 

At least he bit back any noises, jaw clenched shut. Avilus continued to beat him for several minutes more, berating him, insulting him, telling him he would be returned to the slavers if he kept this up. Tears leaked from his eyes, pain cascading through him and reigniting aches he thought were gone. He was a mess by the time Avilus quit, body screaming as the alien stomped from the room marginally less angry than earlier. Lance lay there, trying to control his stuttered breathing, wrapping his arms around himself. As soon as he had himself under control, he sat up. 

The process to pull off the armor was slow and his arms were shaking by the time he was done. Standing was bad, leaving the room was worse. When he reached the stairwell, he stared at the door and considered just giving up. He could set up camp here instead of going to his bunk like he was planning. An alien passed by, dark grey and built like a feline. They took one look at Lance, sympathy in their eyes, and then held the door open for him to walk through. They didn’t offer to help him down the stairs, and he was glad because the only one he’d tolerate helping him like that was Keith.

And with no idea where Keith was, Lance dragged himself down the steps on weak legs and heavy, plodding feet. The door at the bottom was open, left by the alien he was sure. Through the barracks door - a brief silent thanks to whoever installed sliding doors here - and by the time Lance reached the back of the room, he was spent.

He didn’t even look at his bunk.

He collapsed onto the bottom one instead, easing his shaking arms around Keith’s pillow and tugging it close. Lance wanted the Castle, the comfort and warmth of his friends. He wanted Keith here, he wanted Blue, and he wanted Avilus to be scoured out of the universe. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Keith trained for hours, forced to fight against the very guard who had led him into a room away from Lance. The guard armed Keith, drew his own weapon and attacked. Keith responded to defend himself. He would have fought anyway; that match had left him tense with anger and being able to vent like this was good. The injury from the arena still hurt. Whatever that pink guard had injected him with had lessened the pain drastically, but it throbbed dully with each swing. He switched hands and pushed through the pain, turning to keep his injured arm away from the attacker. 

At some point, Avilus entered and Keith had to endure more unwanted tips on how to improve his fighting. He ground his teeth together to stop himself from snapping at the huge alien, focused on channeling all his anger toward Lance into beating the guard. 

When he was released, he made his way downstairs. There was a spot on his wrist where the guard had nicked him and he rubbed at it with his other hand. It stung, would probably leave a mark behind. His plan was to shower and eat, then find Lance and try to talk to him about the fight. With less shouting this time. He stopped by the barracks to pick up an extra set of clothes, and that plan fell apart in an instant. 

Lance lay on his bunk again, curled around his pillow. There were bruises, dark and blotchy against his tanned skin, spilling from under the sleeve of his shirt. The gaze he turned on Keith was tired and watery. 

Keith froze by the bed.

Lance said, “Hey, buddy.” 

“What happened?” Keith blurted. He took the last few steps to the bed, sitting down carefully beside Lance. “It was Avilus, wasn’t it?” 

Lance made a quiet, affirming noise. 

“What did he do.” It wasn’t a question. Keith flitted his gaze over Lance quickly, searching for visible injuries. There was none on his face, but the bruises on his arm spread down to his elbow and a dark spot curled around his forearm. The rest of him was covered by the shabby clothing, but there had to be more for Lance to look this bad. This weak. “Lance. What did he do to you?” 

With a quiet sigh, Lance’s gaze dropped from Keith’s face. “Beating,” he said, quiet, spoken into the pillow he gripped. “Blamed me for the loss.”

Just like that, any vestiges of anger at Lance was gone. He had expected Avilus to make Lance train on his own as well, just like he’d split them up previously, and - yes, okay, he thought Avilus was going to do something to Lance for this loss. He recalled the sick thrill of gratification he’d had when led from the room at the idea of Avilus punishing Lance for what was clearly his fault. Guilt stabbed him for it now. It was like he had done this himself, like his own angry thoughts had come to life.

He cursed, sliding from the bed and kneeling down to peer under it. The tube of medicinal cream the medic had given him a few days prior was under there somewhere; he had watched Lance toss it onto the floor earlier, watched it vanish beneath the bunks. Now, he scanned the ground frantically, reaching out for it as soon as he spotted it against the wall. 

Back on the bed, Lance hadn’t moved. He looked at Keith curiously before his eyes landed on the tube. Realization sparked immediately. “Oh,” he said. “Hey, good idea. I thought it was empty.” He started to sit up, wincing when he pushed up on his arms.

Keith was beside him by then, dropping the tube to take hold of Lance’s arms. He wanted the other boy to lay back down, but Lance refused. He helped him up instead, letting Lance grip his shoulder with the bruised arm. Now that the other was freed from where Lance had pinned it beneath the pillow, Keith could see the clear skin there. Just one arm marked and bruised? He frowned, and then asked Lance where, exactly, Avilus had hit him. 

Lance looked down at his arm. “Uh, this arm,” he said, “ ‘cause the other one had armor.” 

“You hadn’t taken the armor off?”

Lance shook his head. “He beat me around it,” he said. He paused, and then spoke in a voice so quiet Keith leaned closer to hear him. “Sucked, man. It really - it really hurt.” For a moment, he looked like he was going to cry, but then he shook his head lightly and it was gone. 

Keith was going to kill Avilus. 

“So, uh, space lotion?” Lance said, looking at Keith. 

He nodded, picking it back up again. There really wasn’t a lot left, but the medic hadn’t given Keith a lot of it to begin with. He had had to plead with the damn short medic to get it in the first place, and the alien had dismissed him saying it was a one time only deal. No more free treatments, no more attention unless it was necessary. 

He popped the cap off and then paused, glancing back to Lance. Those blue eyes peered back at him, waiting, and Keith swallowed. “Uhm,” he started, “where, uh… where does it hurt the worst?” 

Lance tilted his head. There was a mark at the base of his throat and Keith’s gaze zeroed in on it instantly. “Does it matter?” he said. 

“Of course it does.” He was frowning at the visible bruise, image of Avilus gripping Lance by the neck at the forefront of his mind. “How am I supposed to help if I don’t know?” 

Lance laughed, short and breathy and pained. Keith tore his gaze from the bruise, locking eyes with him again. “Dude. Are you offerin’ to rub space lotion on me?” 

He could feel his ears reddening and was glad his hair hid it from Lance. “Shut up,” he said, scowling. “It’s not like that!” It wasn’t. He just wanted to help. Even if helping did apparently involve willingly lying his hands on Lance’s skin. 

“I can do this myself,” Lance said. He was smiling and Keith dropped his gaze to the tube in his hands. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“No,” he said. “I’m trying to help, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You look a little uncomfortable,” Lance said, “and I’m gonna have to take off my shirt, so… Yeah, that’s a little weird, isn’t it? Putting space lotion on my chest? Totally weird. So, I totally understand if you wanna just not do this.” 

He really wished Lance had stopped talking. Memories of training on the Castle were dancing through Keith’s head - specifically, memories of Lance using his shirt to mop sweat off his face, glimpses of the taut skin of his stomach. He paused, willing it to stop because Lance was injured, Lance needed help.

This wasn’t the time to think like this.

“Shut up and let me help,” he said. 

“If you’re sure.” 

He was.

But then he looked up and Lance was pulling the shirt off with one arm. He moved the bruised one carefully, slowly pulling it free. Keith took one look at him and took a sharp breath. Lance, shirtless. Lance, tanned and lean and shirtless. 

_ Not the time, _ he told himself. _ Not the time, not the time, not the time.  _

There were ugly bruises already forming, red spots and darkened areas covering his stomach, parts of his chest. Keith trailed his eyes up, scoping out the bruises, landing on the mark on his neck. He frowned. Any distraction was melting away, replaced by concern and a quiet fire of rage at Avilus for doing this. Slowly, he moved forward until their knees touched. “Arm first,” he said. 

Lance held it out to him, watching as Keith squeezed a small amount of medicinal cream onto his fingers. He was quiet until Keith’s fingers touched his forearm. “Y’know,” he said, “It’s weird that you don’t have those stupid gloves of yours.” 

“Is it now.” Keith was focusing on what he was doing, trailing his fingers over the angry mark forming there. 

“Yeah. Like, right now, I totally expected leather instead of skin when you touched me.”

Keith shot him a brief look. “Those gloves don’t cover my fingers.”

Lance smiled. “I know. That’s why they’re stupid.”

He rolled his eyes, dropping his gaze again. Slowly, carefully, he was moving his hands up Lance’s arm, rubbing the cream into his skin. It was supposed to relieve ache, speed up healing of bruises and scrapes. It must work, since Lance never complained after he had applied it. 

“Do you miss them?”

“Miss what?”

“Your gloves. You wore them all the damn time.” 

He shrugged one shoulder, busy running his hand up Lance’s bicep. “I guess.” He was decidedly not paying attention to how warm Lance’s skin was beneath his hand. 

Another few seconds of silence, where Keith finished with his arm and Lance pulled it back. Then he said, “You really gonna rub my chest, Keith?” with a smirk. “I got some pain on my thighs too. You wanna take care of that?”

Keith frowned, heat flaring over his face. He ducked his head, eyes on his lap. “Do it yourself,” he said hurriedly, handing the tube over.

Lance didn’t take it. “Uh, actually.”

“I’m not touching your thighs, Lance.” 

“No! Jesus, Keith.” He was laughing again, that tired, breathless laugh. Keith looked at him again, gazing through his hair in his face. “He, uh… he hit me on my back, too. Can you, y’know…?” He shrugged, laughter peeling off and smile vanishing. 

He nodded once, moving behind Lance. At least now he didn’t have to worry about the flush refusing to leave his cheeks. The shadows were making it hard to find any bruising on Lance’s back - or maybe that was because Keith, despite how this was not the time, was only thinking that Lance’s skin was soft and nice to touch and-

This was stupid.

What a stupid idea, offering to do this. What the hell was his problem? 

“Where?” he said finally. 

“Lower back.” 

At least Lance sounded awkward about it, too. Keith tried to take solace in that as he forced another small portion of cream from the tube. He placed one hand on Lance’s back, right beneath his shoulder blades, and pushed him forward just slightly. Just enough to make it easier to reach down and spread his fingers over the soft skin above the waistband of his pants. 

He was not thinking about this. 

He wasn’t going to think about this, ever. Even if his heart was in his throat because this was something he had imagined before - though in very different context.

Quietly, Lance said, “This is weird.”

“Stop talking.”

“But it is! It’s totally weird.” 

“Lance. Shut up.” 

Lance huffed, shoulders hunching. “Little higher,” he whispered. 

Keith obliged, dragging his fingers over an inch of Lance’s spine. His other hand was sliding up to the base of Lance’s neck without him noticing, eyes glued to the skin above his pants. He paused, swallowed, and said, “Good?” 

Lance shifted. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” 

And Keith dropped his hands like they were on fire, scooting back from Lance until his back hit the wall. He handed the tube over without looking from Lance’s back, scolding himself for offering. And for getting distracted, for thinking of these kinds of things when Lance was hurt and they were locked in a damn arena. 

“I’m gonna go… shower,” he said, wrenching his eyes away and leaving the bed.

Lance hummed quietly. 

Keith glanced back at him, watching as Lance slid his hand over his stomach. He left as quickly as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy how about that season 7 don't talk to me about it ok good
> 
> ANYWAY  
> The next update may not happen for a few weeks. I just need some time to write more chapters before posting them again, so chaper 7 will be posted once chapter 8 is completed. Shouldn't be more than three weeks, if even that. Thank you all for reading ily vvv muh
> 
> and I promise I'm done beating up Lance for a while ok there's this whole other boy here
> 
> //edit: I made a Twitter so I ramble ini thin air about vld and space gays. come bother me if you want. https://twitter.com/StygianDeity  
> I'm on a tablet or I'd make it embedded lol


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arena zeta presents the universe's worst game of hide and seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact Avilus is basically a huge bipedal dinosaur
> 
> hope you're all prepared for half a chapter of Pidge and Team Voltron awww yeah

Two weeks passed with nothing. No leads of any kind - no one had seen an Earthling, let alone any that looked like Keith or Lance. They visited no less than ten different markets and all of it was a waste of time. The last one was built into the side of an asteroid, poised at the edge of a field of the rocks. A nebula stretched the sky behind it, a huge red dwarf star supplying light. It was a beautiful sight for space. Something they should have enjoyed. They had disembarked with one of the Castle’s pods, and Hunk had taken one look at the place, said, “Lance would like this,” and it was no longer interesting to look at. It was sour and Pidge couldn’t stand it by the time they left.

“We can’t keep wasting our time doing this,” she said on the way back. She sat beside Shiro in the front, Hunk in the back with Allura.

(Coran was on the ship this time. He and Allura were alternating who stayed and who left.)

“If we don’t look, we’ll never find anything,” Shiro said. He was exhausted and it showed in his voice.

“But it’s useless,” she said. “No one even knows what we’re talking about.” She was bitter and she knew it, just like she knew Shiro and Hunk were tired of listening to her complain. “There just… there has to be better ways to do this.”

“I don’t like it either,” Shiro said. His was flying, turning the pod in the direction of the Castle. The star loomed ahead of them. “I was kind of hoping we’d have a lead by now, at least. Somewhere to go.”

Pidge glanced at him, and frowned. She kept forgetting that, although she had lost two friends, Shiro was closer to Keith than any of them. Dark circles were under his eyes; there was no telling how much sleep he was getting lately, but it wasn’t a lot. Not that Pidge was any better. “I think we need a new tactic,” she said. “Jumping from one place to the next is getting us nowhere.”

“You got any ideas?” he asked. “I’m sure I can help you talk Allura into something.”

“I’ll figure something out,” she said, staring at the Castle as they approached. “Give me a day.”

She already had ideas, but Allura was touchy lately in a way that made Pidge want to avoid her. The longer time stretched on without Lance or Keith showing up, the antsier Allura became. The Altean was visibly frustrated, had been getting increasingly insistent on discussing what their next move was - or, rather, what Voltron’s next move was now. Pidge was sure she meant what they were going to do about the Galra, about any distress beacons that reached the Castle.

Two days ago, though, Hunk had confessed that he was worried about something else. “What if she wants new Paladins?” he said. The pair had been working in Pidge’s lab, tinkering with Altean tech just for something to do.

“It’s only been, like, ten quintants,” Pidge had said. “I’m sure it’s not like that.”

But he had gone on to talk about how Allura cared more about Voltron than any of them, how defending the universe was her main focus. And then the thought rooted into Pidge’s brain to the point where, late last night, she had found herself wondering the same damn things. It was stupid, aimless, pointless nonsense. Two weeks was not enough time to abandon their missing Paladins, she was sure of that.

What was bothering her was that she didn’t know just how long Allura would be willing to search.

The pod pulled into the Castle’s hanger and she shook the thoughts from her mind. She was going to spend the rest of the day being productive and figuring out the best way to propose a new method of searching to the Princess. She disembarked the pod after Shiro, heading from the hanger without a glance at the rest of the team.

The first time they had searched and come up empty handed, the team had convened in the lounge. Allura had pulled up the universal map and highlighted places as Coran suggested them. Coran had wandered around the room talking about the best ways to find these nasty spots. Shiro and Hunk and Pidge had listened, suggested spots and ideas of how to look through the places they found to stop at. Each time after that, they spoke less and less until, after the sixth failed search, they stopped completely. Allura and Coran stil met in the lounge, putting their heads together to try and find somewhere else to go.

The three remaining Paladins split up as soon as they could. Pidge to her lab, Hunk to the kitchens or his room, and Shiro ...well, Pidge wasn’t sure where he went exactly. When they met in the kitchen to eat, he was always last to show, though.

Tonight, Pidge showed up with her computer in her hands. She was determined, facing down the other four with a stern face. She had shown up after Shiro this time, had nearly missed dinner entirely.

(It was the only time they were all together now. Dinner in the kitchens to ignore the empty seats at the table.)

“I have something,” she said when they all looked her way, “and it may help, or it might not. But I want to give it a shot.”

Shiro spoke first. “I thought you were going to tell me first.”

She shrugged. “Sorry. Time got away from me.”

“What’s up, Pidge?” Hunk asked. “Did you find something?”

He looked hopeful and Pidge regretted her choice of words before. “Not exactly,” she said, grimacing as his face fell. “I just think that what we’re doing, it’s - it’s not working. We keep landing at these seedy places and looking and looking and looking. No one sees anything, no one knows anything. We aren’t accomplishing anything.”

Allura was frowning. “We’re making our best effort,” she said.

“I’ve located several more places to look at,” Coran said. “A few were given to me by contacts on the last station.”

All of Coran’s new contacts were pirates or scavengers. Hunk eyed the alien warily and Pidge raised her eyebrows.

“I want to try something different,” Pidge said. “I want to hack into a Galra station.”

Silence met her.

“Really, we should have tried this sooner,” she continued. “I know Allura said there were no living Galra in the system we found the Red and Blue lions, that they would have taken the lions as well if they were there. And I believe you because they would.” She also figured they’d taunt the rest of them about it as well, hold it over their heads and devise some stupid way to try and get the other three lions.

“Then what is this about?” Allura asked.

The others were looking at her, waiting. At least Shiro looked thoughtful.

Pidge glanced at the computer in her hands, at the display of the closest Galra station she had found. “We’ve been looking for them in these places full of pirates,” she said, “but what if they were captured? The Galra could have gotten their hands on them somehow.”

Shiro glanced at Allura then back to Pidge. “I think it’s worth a shot,” he said.

Hunk nodded. “Yeah. If nothing else, we can cross it off, right?”

Allura sighed. Her plate of food goo had been abandoned, pushed forward to leave room for her to rest her arms on the counter. “It couldn’t hurt,” she said. “Let’s see what you have.”

A brief smile flashed over Pidge’s face. She went to the others, set the computer down, and they all crowded around. She explained the searches she had started running a few quintants ago, how she was using satellites and intel from various planets they passed to sift through the Castle’s information and pinpoint Galra bases. The Castle was still traveling along the edge of Galra controlled space, taking brief dips further out to stop at the stations.

The nearest Galra base was installed on a moon orbiting the planet Ul’Raen, more like an outpost than anything. From what she could pick up, the base was used as a fueling station. Coran said the Galra would likely use it as a starting point when they pushed further into this quadrant of the universe. For now, the base was sparsely populated.

“I doubt it’ll have much in the way of information,” Coran said. He was scrolling through the information Pidge had found on the base. “It is rather insignificant, after all.”

“We could use any information we get to find other nearby bases,” Pidge said, “and one of those might have something we could use.”

“At the very least,” Shiro said, “we could use the opportunity to remind the Galra that Voltron is still out here.”

That was true. The last time the Galra had seen them was that failed battle where they lost Keith and Lance in the first place.

“I suppose,” Allura said. “I have been wondering what we’ll do for now. Perhaps small missions like this?” She looked between them all and hurriedly added, “Between looking for our missing Paladins, of course.”

It was settled then. The next day, Allura took the Castle into Ul’Raen’s system, keeping the massive ship behind the moon of a neighboring planet. The plan was simple. Since there were only three of them, they’d be using one lion. All of them were to pile into Green, using the stealth capabilities of her to get them in close without the Galra seeing. Pidge was to land the Green lion in a small crater behind the base, using the outcroppings surrounding it to hide the lion from view of scanners. From there, it was a simple infiltration with the goal of getting Pidge to the main communications hub. Easy.

Before they left, Coran informed them that the Castle’s sensors only picked up two life signs. Anything else found in the base would be a sentry.

That made it simpler, really. The less mess they had to deal with, the better.

Everything went smoothly. Green hit the surface of the moon, dust clouds forming at her feet. The dust was still in the air when the Paladins disembarked, hefted by the low gravity. That same low gravity made it easy for them to climb the rock wall, using footholds and the jetpacks to boost themselves up and into the shadow of the base in no time at all.

“Watch out for drones,” Shiro said as they started forward. “We should be able to do this quickly.”

“I don’t even know if this place has drones,” Pidge said. She was raking her eyes over the backside of the building, but so far there was nothing. No sentries, no drones, no signs of anything. She moved behind Shiro, following him as they moved to a side door. A single deep purple light was installed above it.

Hunk brought up the rear. “Oh, that’d be good,” he said. “I’d like something easy today. No fights, no aliens trying to kill me. Just a nice, pleasant stroll through a creepy base.”

“Don’t let your guard down,” Shiro told them. “We have very little information about this base. Look out for the sentries and avoid them if you can.” They reached the base as he was talking and he set his hand onto the lockscreen by the door. It flashed, beeped, and then slid open. He gestured the two of them inside first before following.

The gravity inside was stronger, the same as every Galra ship they boarded. Hardly different from the Castle and just a touch heavier than back on Earth. And just as Pidge had expected, the base was made up of straight, long hallways and dim purple lights. They went right, Shiro leading them further into the base. There was a pair of sentries further down the hall, easily dispatched by Shiro before Pidge even had her bayard out. Hunk helped him move the bodies into a nearby alcove, hidden from sight, while Pidge scoped out the halls. They had an option to go further along this hall, but they could also split off and take the new turn to their left.

She paused, pulled up the display of information they had cobbled together about the base, and considered options. There wasn’t a full blueprint or any concrete way to know where they were going, but the communications should be above or near where other ships’ docked. That had been picked up on the Castle’s long range scans, so she led them down the new hallway, deeper into the base.

It was slow going. Every so often, Pidge would consult the scans to make sure they were still headed in the right direction. Occasionally, Shiro had to unlock a door for them. Then there were the sentries, always in pairs. They avoided them if they could, circling back through the halls and hiding in doorways or alcoves whenever possible. When they couldn’t, Pidge or Shiro tried to take care of them. Hunk’s huge gun could be useful, if they were overwhelmed, but the weight of the thing and the noise of its bullets? Dead giveaway. Pidge had told him this after he spoke up, asking if they didn’t need his help with any of the sentries.

She was pretty sure they’d need his help when she hacked into their systems, was certain that what little defenses were here would come for her before too long.

She didn’t tell him that.

By the time they reached the communication hub, Pidge had counted six sentries avoided and four dispatched. There was one in the hub, standing in the corner by the doorway. She took it out, bayard to its throat, and turned to the computers. One of the Galra officers deployed to the base stood there, back turned to them. She readied herself; beside her, Shiro did the same, already starting forward with his mechanical arm raised.

The sentry hit the floor and the officer turned, his yellow eyes wide. He stared them down, gaze narrowing in recognition, and snarled, “Paladins.”

Shiro was attacking before he even finished the word, striking out hard, that eerie glow around his hand. Despite how quick he moved, how fast Pidge darted to back him up, the Galra’s hand slammed down on the computers around him. He managed, in one second flat, to trigger the alarms. That move left no time for him to defend himself and Shiro struck him in the throat at the same time Pidge deployed her grappling hook to wrap around him. As soon as Shiro drew back, she electrocuted him and the Galra slammed to the floor.

Hunk was at their side then. “Is he dead?” he said. Shiro was bending to move the Galra out of the way, and Hunk knelt to help him.

“No,” Shiro said. “Just knocked out.”

Pidge turned from them to the computers, bringing up the interface in her gauntlet and beginning the process. It’d be easy to hack it, she’d done it enough. But in order to hold the download steady and make sure every bit of information was pulled out of the system, she needed Shiro to maintain contact.

First, though, she was turning off those damned alarms.

Behind her, Shiro said, “You’re up, Hunk,” as footsteps echoed through the still open door.

“Aw, I’m just on guard duty,” Hunk replied. “Alright. Just make it quick, okay? I don’t like being shot at.”

“None of us do,” Shiro said. He was with Pidge by now, waiting for her signal to proceed.

“It shouldn’t be too long,” Pidge told him, not turning from the computers. She disabled the alarms with quick fingers. “Least it’s quiet now, right?”

Hunk’s reply was accompanied by a grunt - he must have activated his bayard, summoned the hefty gun. “Yeah, that’s true. Can’t wait for the lasers to take the alarms place.”

She snorted as, sure enough, the sentries that had come stalking down the halls started firing. That was all the comment she’d give. She trusted Hunk to watch their back, trusted that the rapid fire of his gun would rip through the sentries in no time at all. Her eyes stayed locked on the program, watching as the little icon of herself laughed to itself.

When the hack was done, she nodded. “Now,” she said, indicating a familiar flat screen to her right. Shiro set his hand down flat and they both watched the progress bar flash to life. It moved at a steady pace, roughly one percent per every two ticks. “Damn.” She frowned. “It’s slower than I thought.”

“Go help Hunk,” Shiro said. His gaze flicked from the holographic screen, a smile cutting his face. It was strained, didn’t reach his eyes. He was too stressed for that. “I think I got this.”

Pidge nodded once and turned. The little holographic display on her gauntlet stayed up, its connection to the computer systems steady. It wouldn’t disappear until the process was completed or stopped. Even as she took up a spot by the door, peering outside to count the sentries there, she spared a glance to it.

Five percent.

She took a deep breath, then slipped out the door. Three sentries were standing, one already in pieces on the ground. Hunk was standing in the middle of the hall, braced against the recoil of his gun as he fired into them. In the other direction, two more were advancing. Another Galra officer was between them, gun raised in his hands and a snarl on his face. Pidge turned to them, lashing out with the grappling hook.It wrapped around one of the sentry’s leg and she yanked with as much force as she could. A grunt ripped out of her throat. The sentry went careening to the side, slamming into its fellow.

Then gunfire was on her, the Galra officer aiming right at her face. She popped the shield up immediately. It shone bright just behind the little holographic display and she chanced another look even as she called out to Hunk: “Hey! Officer here. Switch targets!”

“You got it,” Hunk said.

Fifteen percent.

Hunk was moving. Pidge ducked down just as the heavy yellow gun turned; it moved directly over her head and she slid around Hunk as he changed directions. She heard the gun firing, felt the vibrations of it through Hunk’s armor pressed to her back.

She leapt for the sentries left - just two, and one was missing an arm. Their fire turned erratic as they stopped to turn and get a handle on how she was moving. Hunk had been a still target; Pidge was fast. She dropped into a crouch and struck forward, nailing one sentry in the head with the bayard’s blade. The robot jerked, electricity sparking over it, and she used its momentary stillness to jerk her arm forward again, slicing the blade over what stood for its eyes. Disabled, it stumbled forward uselessly. She dodged it, turned for the other, and made quick work of it. Ducked to avoid the gun turning in her direction, wrapped the grappling hook around its middle, and the thing was on the ground in seconds. She stomped on its head for good measure.

Thirty percent.

Hunk was still fighting with the Galra officer. She returned to his side. Without prompting, he said, “She’s hiding over there!” He lifted one hand from the gun to point to a turn just down the hallway. “I think I can keep her pinned down if you guys are almost done?”

Pidge made a face. She looked up to the ceiling and scanned it quickly. No vents. Shame. She could have crawled over to the Galra officer and surprised her, got them a quick upper hand. “I’m gonna see if I can speed things up,” she said, dropping her gaze to Hunk instead. “Keep it up, man.”

He nodded once and a barrage of bullets sprang from the gun in his hands.

Inside the room, Shiro had turned his head to the door. As Pidge approached, he asked how it was going. She gave him the quick rundown while bringing up the interface on her gauntlet. “If I can’t make this go faster, we might have to go get her,” she said, eyes tracking the screens popping over her interface.

Shiro was silent for a few seconds before he sighed. “Alright. I trust you two to do the job, whatever that ends up being.”

She knew he’d rather be helping them than standing here, but this was too important to leave over one officer. At least, she hoped it was important. In silence, she raised her free arm and patted his forearm twice.

A quiet, barely there laugh followed it. “Thanks, Pidge.”

She smiled to herself, gave a tiny shrug before all her attention was drawn back to the task at hand. A few more screens passed by, failures to speed this mess along, and she reconnected her hack with a disgruntled frown. “One sec, Shiro,” she said. The download would pause while she did this, but if it worked, they would be out of here in half the time left.

Which, to be fair, was only a little more than a dobosh.

She was impatient.

And didn’t care for the constant fire from Hunk’s end of things.

The hack sequence ran again, much quicker than before. She watched her little icon disappear for the second time and eyed the progress bar as it started moving forward. At first, it was the same. But then it sped up, two percent now for every tick. The exact opposite of what they had been working with.

“Nice job,” Shiro said. “Have to ask… Why didn’t you just do this before?”

“I was worried disabling too much of the base’s security would affect the operational systems themselves,” she said. “Like, what if I tripped the wrong thing and the entire power core was shut off? What use would that be?”

“I doubt that would happen,” he said, “unless you wanted it to.”

She smirked. “Yeah. True.”

Shiro raised his voice then, calling out to Hunk. “Almost done. Just a few more ticks.”

They were both watching the bar proceed, waiting for it to finish. Adrenaline pumped through Pidge, the drive to run from this place building with each percent gained. There was one Galra officer on the floor, another one awake, and probably no more sentries left. It’d be an easy fight if they had to take it, and yet she still had such a strong urge to get out now.

In the back of her mind, she knew it was because they were down two Paladins. Despite the lack of imminent danger, despite how much she trusted Hunk and knew Shiro wouldn’t let anything happen to them, being without Lance and Keith left such a gaping hole she’d rather not deal with the Galra at all.

The instant the bar was done, Pidge’s fingers were flying over her holo interface, shutting down the connection. Shiro pulled back from the computers, moving to the door and she followed, bayard in hand. “Time to go,” she said as they drew to Hunk. “Same way back.”

She remembered the way, for the most part. And this time, they had no sentries to bother with. Until they rounded the end of that initial hall, Hunk kept his gun out, kept the bullets up to keep the remaining officer away. When they stopped for her to consult the map, Shiro would turn slowly around them, hand raised and ready to strike if anything came at them.

They made it out in mere doboshes, sped across the moon’s surface to where Green was waiting. She enabled the cloak before lifting off, firing Green’s thrusters as soon as they were off the ground. On the way back, Shiro called the Castle. They’d be back soon and then Pidge would set to decrypting all of this information and searching for something, anything, they could use.

Hunk said he’d help, as she knew he would. The two of them ended up in Green’s hanger, where Pidge set up her computer to start working. It wasn’t an easy job. Galra technology was always difficult to get through - first there was the obvious translation barrier, then the codes a lot of their intel seemed to use, and then, as always, there was this element of risk she could never shake. No matter how illogical it seemed, Pidge was always wary of something infiltrating the Castleship and they had all had enough of that.

Halfway through the second quintant of work, Coran made his way down to them. “I’d be thrilled to help,” he said, bending over to squint at Pidge’s screen. “Gives me something to do besides clean. It’s never that fun alone, cleaning this Castle.”

Pidge shot him a confused look for a brief moment before she remembered all those times Lance had complained to her and Hunk. Specifically, the number of times he had collapsed by Green’s paws and spoke loudly and obnoxiously about Coran dragging him around to clean the place.

She wondered how often Lance had ended up going along just to listen to Coran’s odd stories.

By the end of that quintant, Allura had migrated down there as well, mice on her shoulders. She said that she couldn’t offer much in the way of decrypting, but would like to stay regardless. “I’m too nervous to wait,” she said eventually, a small smile on her face. One of the mice twittered, placing its paws on her cheek. “Thought I would come down and get any information first hand.”

“We’ll tell you all we find out, Princess,” Coran said. He had pulled up the spare chair to Pidge’s side and currently held a tablet full of Galra codes.

When the third quintant dawned with not just her and Hunk, but every single person on the ship - including Shiro now - all down in Green’s hanger, Pidge couldn’t ignore it any longer. She cast a look over her shoulder to where Shiro was talking to Allura, watched as one of the mice crawled onto his outstretched hand and the smile that bloomed as it did. Hunk was eating from a plate of food goo, slapping Coran’s hands away when the Altean tried to snatch some away. Each of them were staring down different screens, the food between them.

Quietly, she felt Green’s reassuring presence. And the heavy feeling there that the lion gave off, that low, quiet warmth of a family brought together.

They were lonely. Every one of them. And since they could do nothing but wait right now, they congregated around here.

Around Pidge.

Around her work.

She sighed.

Hunk cried out, “Coran! Get your own food goo!” He had abandoned his screen and the work there to snatch the plate out of the reach of Coran, an intense frown on his face.

Coran had a finger in his mouth and she knew immediately that he had finally succeeded in getting some of it. He popped his finger out with a bright smile, gesturing at the table before them. “Ah, I can’t, number two! Quite busy here, you see. Lots of work to do.”

“You can get your own goo,” Hunk repeated. “It doesn’t take that long. And you’re working from a tablet! Take it with you!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, this tablet must remain here.” Coran rapped the table with his knuckles. “It’s connected to all number five’s primitive work here. I can’t take that away. What if something breaks?”

“Nothing will break,” Hunk said. He shot Pidge a pleading stare. “Pidge! Tell him nothing will break!”

Pidge opened her mouth.

Allura spoke before she could. “Oh! I would love some food goo!” Her hands were clasped to her chest when Pidge looked. “Hunk, would you be so kind as to get us some?”

Hunk sputtered for a response.

“An excellent idea!” Coran said. “I can stay here with the work, and you can take care of our food problems. Brilliant, Princess.”

Allura was practically beaming. She looked like she was smothering a laugh as Hunk whipped around to glare at Coran once more.

“I already have my food,” he said. “Coran, why don’t you get it?”

“I’ve already said I can’t leave. Important work to be done.”

“That’s not a real reason!”

“It most certainly is!”

“I can always go,” Allura suggested.

“Why don’t we just all go up there?” Shiro spoke up. Everyone looked at him. The mouse was on his head now, sitting in the middle of the white. “I mean, it’s easier. And as fun as it is watching Coran and Hunk argue…” He trailed off with a shrug.

Allura nodded. “Yes, that’s best. A food trip, then?” She turned to the others with a smile.

Hunk looked down at his plate. “I mean, I guess I could do with some more.” He sighed. “Would rather have omelettes for breakfast. Or waffles. Bacon and eggs.”

Pidge’s stomach gave a quiet grumble at that and she frowned.

Judging by the sad noise from behind her, so had Shiro’s. “Hunk,” he said. “Stop that. We have… goo.” He said the last word with a pained expression and a sigh.

“What’s wrong with the food goo?” Allura asked him. “Has it gone bad?”

“It tastes like nothing,” Hunk muttered. He was still frowning sadly at his plate. “Man, we gotta restock on alien food next time we stop.”

“We can arrange that,” Coran said. “I have actually lined up at least two swap moons that should be nearby. If either of them turn out like the last one we visited, finding some new foods for you all to try should be easy.”

“Anything new,” Shiro said. “I’ll take anything.”

Hunk nodded.

For some reason, this was what struck a chord in Pidge. Not them all standing here, doing nothing. Not how one of Allura’s mice had left her shoulders to climb onto Pidge’s desk. Not how Coran had clearly given up all pretense of work. It was this conversation about food.

She frowned, turning back to her computer with new tension winding up her shoulders.

Green was sending her waves of comfort. The lion had picked up on the sudden downturn in her mood instantly.

The conversation carried on around her, Hunk now attempting to question Coran about every alien food they might be able to get. Allura was chiming in with names of old Altean foods, and that spiraled quickly into her and Coran telling some disjointed story with so many cut off sentences and peels of laughter that Pidge’s eye was twitching.

The code before her wouldn’t unravel.

She snapped, “Can’t you guys do this somewhere else? I’m trying to work here.”

They quieted down, conversations dying.

It was silent and she still wanted to scream.

“I’m sorry, Pidge,” Allura said. She sounded sincere. “We didn’t mean to bother you.” Her footsteps approached and Pidge leaned closer to the screen on reflex, wanting to keep the distance between them. “How is it going?”

“Fine.” Awful. Nothing useful, nothing good, handfuls of bullshit and useless manifests for Galra cargo shipments. “Just fine.”

Allura was standing beside her. The mouse on the desk was clambering over cables to rejoin the Princess. “Wouldn’t you like some food?” Allura said.

Pidge shook her head, fingers moving over the keys.

“C’mon, Pidge,” Hunk cut in. “A little break would be nice. We’ve been at this for days.”

“You guys go,” she said, not looking at them. Watching code fly by. Working the programs to decrypt it all. “I’m staying here.”

Slowly, they left. She didn’t move, just heard the noise of the hanger door sliding closed. Hunk left with a promise to bring her down something and then Pidge thought she was alone. She paused, fingers frozen, the information on screen stopping as she did. She sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair and staring at the ceiling.

“This is so unfair,” she said, quiet. Meant for no one but herself.

Which, naturally, was exactly why footsteps started. She bolted upright again, turning in her chair. Shiro was still here, moving across the hanger to lean against the table beside her. There was still a mouse in his hair, the little blue one. It looked down at Pidge and squeaked. “You sure you don’t need a break?” Shiro asked.

In the quiet, without the others there, she couldn’t find the energy to snap at him. “I don’t want to stop working,” she said, averting her gaze. She had basically been working non stop, pausing only for the bathroom and food. She slept down here, next to her work and the comforting presence of her lion. “It’s just… if I stop, it takes longer to find something. And it’s already been too long.”

If she stopped, time kept moving past without Lance or Keith here and if no one was making an effort, it felt wrong. Like not working to find them was abandoning them.

“This is hard on all of us,” Shiro said. He was quiet, meant to be comforting, but she picked up on little edges of weariness in his voice. “We’re all working, Pidge. Hunk’s spent almost as much time down here as you have. Coran barely knows how to use Earth technology, and he’s still down here with you.”

She made a face at her feet. “I know.” She looked back at the computer screen and the Galra text there. “And I know Allura’s just lonely or frustrated or both at once, and I know she wants to help.”

Just like she knew it was killing Shiro each day they spent without finding them.

“I know you wanna help too,” she added.

“I wish I could,” he said, “but technology is not my greatest skill.” He shifted where he stood and it drew her gaze back to him. “Everyone needs a break, Pidge. Even you. It doesn’t mean we aren’t trying any less or that this won’t be finished. We’ll get them back, but we can’t exactly work ourselves to death over it.”

She sighed, sinking into her chair. “Maybe I want to work myself to death over it.”

Shiro laughed, quick and quiet. “I can relate. But, not now. Come on, Pidge. Eat with us. Then you can come right back down here.”

She looked at him, considering.

After a few ticks, he said, “Seriously, Pidge, that’s all I have. Don’t make me spend another hour making up another speech to give you.”

Pidge snorted. “Fine.”

He smiled then. “Great. Let’s go, then.”

She stood up, stretching. Something in her back popped. As they left the hanger, she told him, “By the way, for future speeches, I recommend taking the mouse off your head.”

He blinked, startled, and raised his flesh hand to his head. “I… I forgot that was there,” he said.

✦✦✦✦✦

Nothing useful came from the stolen Galra intel. Pidge may have thrown some pieces of alien tech at the wall when the decryption was finally finished.

✦✦✦✦✦

The next day, Lance made it through breakfast and a shower before giving up. The hot water had been fantastic against all the bruises he now sported, but walking made his thighs flame with unwanted pains. He had considered spending his downtime in the lounge, talking to the various aliens stuck here, but that meant climbing the stairs again.

He went back to the barracks, sitting down on Keith’s bunk and frowning at the other boy. Keith had just woken up, hair mussed from sleep. He sat there and stared at Lance with a vague, confused frown to mirror Lance’s own. His eyes were screwed up in the light, though, and he was clearly too tired to look anything other than weirdly cute. He said, “What?” and his voice was raspy from sleep.

Lance made a face at him. The fact that Keith of all people was allowed to be cute while he was in pain was unfair.

Keith tilted his head.

Lance huffed. “I’m tired,” he said, “of waking up feeling like someone ran me over.” He gestured at Keith as if the other boy was behind his pain. “And here you are, perfectly fine. It’s not cool, man.”

Anything that was making Keith cute vanished in an instant as his confusion cleared up. He rolled his eyes, raising his hands to run through his hair. “Whatever. Not like I was the one who hit you.”

“Why’re they always hitting me?” he said. “Why hasn’t anyone beaten you up?”

Keith was still messing with his hair, pulling at it like he was clearing out a knot. “They have. Or did you forget what happened to me yesterday?”

It took a moment, but, yeah, he did. Keith’s shoulder was injured in battle, useless in the fight. There was a spark of worry about that - if it was healing okay, if it still hurt - but Lance scoffed. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause that’s so terrible. I look like someone used me for target practice.”

Literally every bruise on his body had colored overnight. Various hues of blues and purples, nasty greens and dark yellows. Some bruises were so dark they were nearly black. Every single one was gross and hurt and he hated how they looked against his skin.

Concern passed over Keith’s face. He dropped his hands to his lap, eyes locked onto Lance, somewhere below his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It must hurt.”

“It does.” Why was Keith’s prolonged stare making him nervous? “A lot.”

“Too bad you used all the cream.”

“It hurt last night too, okay?”  

Keith hummed quietly in agreement. “The bruise on your neck,” he said, pointing at his own throat, “looks really bad now. You should’ve saved some of it.”

Lance blinked. He raised one hand to touch the base of his neck. The bruise in question was one of the purple ones. “Is _that_ what you’re staring at?” he asked. “Jeez, Keith. You were freakin’ me out.”

A flush spread over Keith’s face at his words, the other boy jerking back. “I wasn’t staring!” he said.

Lance raised his eyebrows. “You kind of were.”

Keith left then, grumbling to himself, hand rubbing at his neck as left. Lance watched him go and wondered if Keith had gotten enough sleep last night. He didn’t normally stare, or blush over nothing. Once he lost sight of Keith among the bunks, he shrugged to himself and conceded that Keith was just a really weird guy.

Left alone, Lance laid on his back and stared up at the bunk above him. He poked at the bruise on his neck with one finger, wincing against the burst of pain. The other aliens were waking up, and apparently the arena wasn’t running fights today because no one was called out. That happened sometimes, maybe one or two days in a row with no names; one of the aliens had told him it was because Zeta couldn’t afford to run every single day.

Eventually, Lance made the trek up the stairs and to the lounge, collapsing on one of the worn couches there. Various aliens milled around, playing games with strange cards or talking or, in one case, drawing on an old tablet. He stared at that for a few seconds, curious. So far as he knew, any fighter in the arena had nothing of value, so how exactly had one gotten a tablet? He considered going to ask but that would involve the use of his legs, which were currently turning into finely cooked noodles, so no.

After a while - he wasn’t sure how long - Keith joined him. “I was looking for you,” Keith said. He sat beside Lance with his arms crossed, staring disdainfully at the aliens. “It’s been an hour.”

He was probably over exaggerating.

“What are you even doing up here?” Keith continued.

“Sitting in the barracks was a little pathetic,” Lance said. “So I thought I’d sit up here instead.”

“And this isn’t pathetic?”

“No, it isn’t. Lying in a bed is just lazy, Keith. At least I’m out in public here.” He gestured with one hand at the lounge. A nearby alien glanced at them before turning its attention back to the cards in its hand.

Keith flicked his gaze to Lance then. “I don’t think the arena’s lounge counts as being out in public.”

Lance huffed a breath out, frowning. “Not like I can actually go out, dude.” He watched as Keith’s eyes widened briefly before he looked away again. For as long as they were stuck here, this was as public as it got for them and damn if that wasn’t depressing. A brief silence set in between them and Lance squirmed where he sat, uncomfortable thoughts pulling at him. The usual - what if they were stuck here forever, how would they get out, how would the others find them - but behind that, one huge question that he couldn’t ignore.

He looked over at Keith, eyes falling to the other boy’s hands as he picked at the bottom of his shirt. “Hey, Keith?”

“Hm?” He didn’t look up.

“How long do you think we’ve been here?”

Keith didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think. “About two weeks,” he said. “If you mean in the arena, anyway.”

“Oh.” It felt longer. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged, glancing at Lance. “I counted.” A pause, then he added, “If you want to count our time in the ship, then probably… seventeen days? Or eighteen. I’m not really sure.”

Lance let out a long, low breath, sinking down in the couch. He crossed his arms just to rub his hands over each arm. “This sucks,” he muttered, leaning closer to Keith.

Keith didn’t answer, but he did shift closer so that their shoulders pressed together. That was something.

✦✦✦✦✦

Avilus didn’t bother them until after dinner.

They had spent the day in the lounge, talking with one another and not really paying attention to the aliens that wandered in and out. Lance tried his hardest to keep the mood from souring, which was practically a lost cause from the start. He told Keith stories from the Garrison because there was hope connected to Pidge and Hunk so thinking about them wasn’t too bad. At one point, in the midst of a story about how Lance had landed himself detention for yelling curses and threats in Spanish in front of a professor who happened to speak the language, Keith had actually laughed. It was quiet and short, but Lance still beamed at him.

That laugh alone was proof that keeping up the jokes and smiles was worth it. If he could keep making Keith laugh, then who cared about all his worries?

He kept it up throughout lunch, and when Keith started to add little anecdotes about Shiro from the Garrison, Lance was happy to let him. Keith didn’t laugh again, but he smiled and even though every one held an edge of sadness, it was better than his frowns and glares. Much better. It was a thin veil of humor, carefully crafted from light hearted stories and stupid jokes.

Which made it all too easy to break when Avilus approached them. He stood outside the cafeteria, staring them down. “Follow me,” he said. “There are certain things we need to discuss.” He turned without waiting for a response, walking off and expecting them to do as he said.

They followed. Lance grit his teeth as they headed upstairs, an angry fire enveloping his thighs with every step. Beside him, Keith was glaring at Avilus’s back.

He had been planning to just go back to bed, to lay down with Keith until he was tired enough for the aches to fade away. But now Avilus was leading them back to one of those damn training rooms, turning an icy stare on the pair of them once the door was shut behind them.

Lance flinched away from it instinctively, tensing just at the alien’s gaze. He hated that this was his reflex now. Hated that he just expected pain.

“Despite your failures,” Avilus said, gaze lingering on Lance, “I’m not giving up on you two just yet.” He covered their two matches so far quickly, pointing out the glaring errors each of them had made: Keith’s blind aggression, Lance abandoning his gun, Lance forgetting about his opponent. He said, “We can fix these problems, I’m sure. I believe in you two.”

That was rich, considering all the insults Lance had gotten thrown his way the day before. He sighed, hunching his shoulders. Maybe this would be over with quickly.

“We’re going to start nightly training exercises,” Avilus said. “Every night after Zeta’s matches have completed, you two are going to go out there and practice.”

“Practice what?” Keith said.

Avilus frowned. “Don’t interrupt me, boy,” he said. “I’m trying to help you both.”

Keith scoffed. “Help us how? All you’ve done is make us train constantly, and all we’ve gotten out of it is you beating us up.”

Lance stared at him. “Keith, shut up,” he hissed.

“Listen to your friend,” Avilus said.

Keith was scowling, shaking his head. He said, “No,” and before he could continue, Lance had elbowed him sharply. He threw Lance a startled glance, staring as if he had expected Lance to just let this continue. When Lance shook his head, Keith said, “You can expect me not to do anything when he - “

“Shut up,” Lance said, raising his voice over Keith’s. He glanced at Avilus for a split second before keeping his gaze on Keith - the alien didn’t seem ready to attack, but panic was still rising in Lance’s gut. With every word Keith spoke and each second he refused to stand down, Lance felt all his bruises light anew. He pictured Avilus doing the same to Keith and couldn’t stand it, wouldn’t let it happen. “Just stop talking,” he said. “For once, please listen to me.”

Keith was silent for a few seconds. “He beat the shit out of you,” he said flatly. “And you want me to, what? Do nothing?”

It was like Keith had forgotten Avilus was even there. “That’s exactly what I want,” Lance said. “Stand there and look pretty.”

Keith’s stare was unimpressed and annoyed. For a moment, Lance thought he would keep arguing anyway. Then he shook his head, crossing his arms, and looked away to the corner of the room. “Fine. Whatever.”

Lance heaved a sigh of relief, letting his gaze linger on Keith for a few seconds longer. Tension still wound up his spine and through his shoulders, and he was so, so sure that Avilus would still come after them.

Avilus said, “Are you two done?” and Lance’s attention snapped back to him. While he had been arguing with Keith, the alien had gone into the little observation room at the back and he now stood in the doorway. A gleaming silver crate sat beside him, hovering a couple inches off the ground. “I’d like to get on with this.”

Neither of them spoke.

Avilus nodded. “Good.” He pushed the crate forward with a kick and it floated slowly into the training room, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Lance. Avilus walked to it, talking. “Since the armor Zeta provided to you is broken and in need of repairs - “

Despite himself, Lance winced. As far as he knew, it was only his armor that had broken.

“ - I have made the decision to give you this ahead of schedule.” He leaned down to the crate, pressing huge fingers to an unseen lock on side. The lid split open in the middle, the halves sliding back to leave a sizable opening. Avilus reached into it with one hand. “Originally, you weren’t going to have this until you managed to win a few matches. But I can’t back you out of fights for the next pheob, so here we are.”

Avilus stood, pulling two pieces of black fabric with him. He considered what he was holding, then looked to Lance and Keith. “I’m sure you know what to do with it,” he said, tossing it forward.

Keith caught it, jolting forward to do so. He shook one loose, shaking folds out, and then both of them were looking at one of the flightsuits they had been wearing when they arrived. Keith stared at Lance with his brows raised.

Lance blinked, shrugged, and reached to take the other one.

In front of them, Avilus was still talking. “This was to be a gift for winners.” He sounded bitter. “So I expect you two to finally win something and show me that I’m not wasting my time or generosity here.” He nudged the crate forward again. “Now, get yourselves dressed.”

They peered into the crate together, a grin crossing Lance’s face. Inside, each piece of armor had been carefully placed in a form-fitting material that kept it safe. Arm pieces, leg armor, chests, even the pieces that slotted over their boots. The only thing missing was the helmets. All of it was painted black with gold highlights, but it was obviously theirs. Lance tossed the suit he held over one shoulder, reaching to pull one of the chest pieces out. The V shape in the center had been painted over but the lines were still there, visible to anyone who knew where to look.

This was their Paladin armor, ready and waiting for them. Different colors, sure, but mostly accounted for.

While Lance pulled out pieces, setting them on the ground between them, Keith spoke to Avilus. “Where’s the helmets?” he said. “We can hardly fight without helmets.”

Avilus’s answer sounded bored. “Ah. Right. Those.” His footsteps set off again, but Lance was too busy considering which chest piece was his and which was Keith’s to bother looking up. Then helmets were thrust into his field of view, one each in a massive hand, and he glanced up to meet Avilus’s faze. “Get ready,” the alien said. “We don’t have time to waste for you to gawk over this.”

Lance frowned, taking a helmet. Beside him, Keith did the same. They donned the armor, though doing so was made slightly awkward by Avilus’s presence. He didn’t leave when they had to pull off the baggy clothes to pull on the flightsuits, only rolled his eyes when they had to switch suits.

If it was only a little awkward for Lance, Keith must have been craving death. Lance had glanced at him once after pulling his shirt off, only for Keith to look the other direction in a hurry with a fierce redness high on his cheeks. He didn’t look when they exchanged the flightsuits either.

Piece by piece of armor was pulled on, each of them mentally measuring pieces to see if they’d fit, handing them over if they didn’t. Lance made sure Keith’s chest piece was secured - it was, of course; Paladin armor locked itself in place for the most part - and Keith returned the favor.

When each of them stood fully armored, helmet in their hands, Avilus ordered them to follow him. He walked them to the arena, and on the way, Lance put the helmet on and turned. He was walking backwards now, flashing Keith a grin and a wink. “How do I look?” he asked.

Keith looked incredibly unimpressed. He put his own helmet on with a shrug. “Like an idiot,” he said. “So nothing unusual.”

“Y’know, I don’t know what I expected from you.”  He spun around as Avilus pushed open the arena door, facing forward once more. “A compliment would be nice, though, Keith,” he said. “I mean, we got our armor back, we look just as badass as we’re supposed to, and all you got is in an insult. It’s just rude.”

They were still following Avilus, heading into the center of the arena. “You look weird in black,” Keith said, “and it’s giving me horrible visions of you as team leader.”

Lance shot him a frown. “Hey, same to you, buddy.”

Avilus stopped dead center in the arena. A large piece of rock jutted up from the floor to his right and he leaned against it. “Boys,” he said, getting their attention. “Tonight, you have no weapons. Your training will be about learning the arena floor so that we have no mistakes due to not knowing where you’re going. You will learn every hidden corner of this arena so that you’ll be able to track your enemies flawlessly. Understood?”

Lance nodded. Keith shrugged one shoulder. Still wary of Avilus’s anger and the aches in his body, Lance didn’t speak but he thought this seemed easy enough. Nothing wrong with learning the terrain, after all.

“How are we going to learn it?” Keith asked.

“You’re going to avoid an enemy,” Avilus said.

“What enemy?”

A dangerous grin lit up Avilus’s face. “Me.”

Lance paled.

“And I know every bit of the arena.”

This was cruel and unusual.

“Work together. Hide from me. Stay hidden,” Avilus said. “You two have a thirty tick headstart.” He paused, looking between them. “Starting now.”

Lance didn’t hesitate. He snagged Keith by the wrist, turned on his heels, and lunged forward into a sprint. Judging by Keith’s fractured response - a stuttered curse, a call of his name - this was not what he expected. That was understandable, perfectly so, made total sense. But Lance was not going to be caught by Avilus. There wasn’t any way to know what would happen when - _if_ Avilus found them, but his aching muscles were a brutal reminder of what happens when the alien got too close.

Adrenaline pushed him forward through the aches, made it easier to move when the marks on his thighs burned. He didn’t want that to happen again. Not to him, definitely not to Keith.

Keith was trying to talk to him, tugging to get his arm free. Lance ignored him, gripped him tighter, and slid between rocks.

The arena was vast and full of weird hiding spots between bits of cover that were clumped together. One of these was near the entrance he and Keith always used. He had first discovered it on accident that first fight, before a huge piece of metal smacked into him. Once he found it, he urged Keith in first, then climbed in after him. There wasn’t much room - it was just a small opening between a rock, a slab of metal that may have once been part of a machine, and the solid arena wall. The entrance was less than five feet away.

Lance didn’t realize just how little space there was until he faced Keith and found the other boy’s visored face frowning at him from inches away.

Keith looked uncomfortable. That’d be the lack of space, most likely. He also looked confused, and a bit concerned. “Lance,” he said, soft, like he was approaching an animal. “Are you… okay?”

“Uh. Yeah.” He tried to lean back, put more space between them, and bumped against the back of the metal. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well.” Keith paused, licking his lips. He flicked his gaze around the small area, then crossed his arms. “You literally dragged me here, into a space we can barely fit in.”

“He said hide. We’re hiding.”

Nothing wrong with that.

“You also look terrified,” Keith said.

Lance screwed up his face, shaking his head. “Nope. You’re wrong.”

Keith didn’t look convinced.

Which was stupid. What was there to be scared of? It was just Avilus. Just a big, massive, super strong alien with a temper. An alien who had beaten the shit out of him just the day before.

Keith tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he stared at Lance.

Lance shifted his feet, hands twitching. He wished the Paladin armor had come with their bayards - actually, he flexed his hand by his thigh, tried to will it to come to him. Nothing. “Think it’s been thirty ticks yet?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Hm. Okay.”

If there was enough room, he would have sat down to wait, made himself smaller. Too bad Keith was here. Lance gave him a quick once over, squinting. Was Keith small enough to fit in his lap? Probably, but it’d be weird. Maybe he could let Keith go and use him to distract Avilus, and he could just spend the whole evening in this corner.

Seconds passed in silence. Lance was straining his ears to pick up anything from the arena when Keith spoke again, his voice just a touch above a whisper.

“Is this about yesterday?” he asked. “What happened with Avilus?”

Lance took a breath and let it out with a long, drawn out, “No.”

Keith frowned. “Lance - “

“How are you that astute?” Lance hissed. He raised a hand to gesture at Keith but there was so little room, he just rested it on Keith’s shoulder instead. “You’re supposed to be oblivious! Let things just fly over your head, man. Do it for my sanity.”

“Who said I was oblivious?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Lance had said that, many times, to Hunk and Pidge. “Let’s just pretend you don’t know.”

Keith’s hand came up to his, fingers curling around Lance’s armored wrist. “How could I not know? It literally happened yesterday.” A pause. “Also, you slept in my bed. Again.”

Lance was going to pretend he couldn’t feel the heat rising in his face. Just like Keith should be pretending neither of them knew he was afraid. “Whatever, man. You didn’t complain.” He sighed and let his hand fall from Keith. “Avilus is a dick, okay? I don’t wanna be caught by him.”

“He’s gonna find us eventually.” Keith hadn’t let go of his wrist. “I’m pretty sure he wanted us to be moving.”

“Nope.”

“How else are we supposed to learn the arena layout, Lance?”

Lance was searching for a good answer when another voice spoke and startled him. Just one word - “Boys.” - and Lance yelped, jolting forward. He tried to put Keith between himself and Avilus and only really succeeding in clutching at Keith’s arm.

Avilus smirked. His eyes flicked between them both. “I intended for you two to be moving through the arena,” he said, “not holed up over here.”

“Told you,” Keith muttered.

“I hate you,” Lance said. His eyes were locked on Avilus, waiting for something to happen.

But Avilus just ordered them out, standing by as they climbed out the opening. He shoved them toward the center with a hand on each of their backs. “Again. Thirty tick headstart. Keep moving.”

Lance eyed him warily. This time, it was Keith’s hand on his that moved him forward. He didn’t trust this at all, growing more uneasy by the minute. He followed Keith into a cluster of rocks near the center of the arena, letting the other lead him down a small path that weaved through the mess. There were gaps between the rocks, showing slices of the arena on their left and the wall of it on their right.

Seeds of apprehension were bursting to life in Lance, curling branches around his spine. He felt liable to jump out of his skin at any sudden movement.

He reached up to his helmet, flicking the comms on. He only had Keith to connect to, but this would mean speaking quieter and not getting caught. Hopefully. “This sucks,” he whined. “I wanna go lay down or eat or, I dunno, stare wistfully at a sunset or something.”

In front of him, Keith had jerked at his first words, tripping over his own feet. He cursed, and Lance heard it through his helmet. “Oh. Uh. Comms still work, huh?”

“Yeah.” Despite his nerves, he smiled to himself. At least they’d have this during fights. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno.” Keith paused at the edge of the last rock, peering around it. He pointed with one hand to something that looked vaguely like a crane use for construction. “What was that about a sunset?”

They moved quickly to the crane, Lance on Keith’s heels. “I miss the sun,” he said as he hunched down beside the other boy. “And anything that isn’t rooms clogged with strange aliens in boring clothes.”

Keith chuckled. It was quiet and short and Lance felt better just for hearing it. Like a slice of his anxiety was killed immediately. “I get that,” he said. He shot Lance a brief look, a small smile, and another piece of anxiety crumbled. “When we get out, let’s find a decent planet to relax on for a while.”

Lance smirked. It was just natural, really, to reply with, “You askin’ me out on a date, Keithy boy?”

Just like that, Keith’s smile was gone. “Shut up,” he said but there was fire behind it.

“It’s cool, man. I understand if you want some of this.”

“Stop.”

They moved again shortly, Keith scouting the area with squinted eyes before heading to another piece of cover. Watching him made Lance wish sorely for a gun again, a sniper maybe. Something with a good scope that he could look through. He cast a look at the exposed pipes above them and wished for that view instead of being here. He could have Keith running circles around Avilus easily from there.

Just as Keith made to dart forward again, Lance caught him by the wrist. When he turned, Lance said, “Think our jetpacks still work?”

“What?”

In answer, he pointed up. Keith peered up, and then shrugged. “I don’t know, Lance.” He dropped his gaze back to Lance’s face. “Jumping to get up there would ruin the whole ‘hide from Avilus’ thing, and that’s if the jetpacks work.”

Lance sighed. “Someday, I will get up there.”

“Okay,” was all he said, and then they were on the move again. From one piece of cover to another. Lance tried to remember the path they had taken, which rock led to where, which jutting chunk of metal signaled where the crane was, because if he could find the crane, he could find the cluster of rocks. It was a good way to focus, kept his mind off what they were actually doing. Whenever it tried to creep back in, he’d say something to Keith - either about the arena or what they’d do when they escaped.

They were close to the opposite entrance from theirs when Keith shut him up with a violent gesture. He looked two seconds from hitting Lance over the head if he didn’t, so Lance shut his mouth with a snap. “Listen,” Keith whispered.

He did, staring at Keith with his brow furrowed. When he picked up on the heavy footsteps, the anxiety - the fear of being found, of what Avilus could do to them - came flooding back. His eyes widened, he drew in a sharp breath, and then Keith was shaking his head. Lance opened his mouth to talk and Keith’s hand was on it in a flash.

Keith shook his head again, glaring.

Lance stared at him. He was on his knees in the dirt, hands pressed flat, muscles tense. If he caught so much as a peek of Avilus, he was going to take off.

After a few of the worst seconds of Lance’s life, Keith pulled back, leaning around their cover. It was a piece of metal, the top curled forward over them. He moved, slowly, waving for Lance to follow him. All Lance did was stare after him, certain he was frozen to spot and would become part of the metal itself.

Then, Keith’s voice in his ear. Soft and urging. “C’mon, Lance. You really gonna let me get out of here on my own?”

Lance frowned at the retreating black clad figure.

Those footsteps were approaching, but slowly. He listened to them for a second before something clicked.

Keith was heading in the opposite direction of them.

Keith said, “I’m counting this as a win if I escape and you don’t.”

He was already moving, had pushed himself forward the instant he realized it. Keith was leading him away from stupid, ugly, angry Avilus and that was a much better alternative than staying put. Still, he rolled his eyes as he did. “Shut it,” he said, “or I’m cutting your stupid mullet off.”

“Gonna have to catch up for that.”

“I know where you sleep.”

“You mean where you sleep.” There was an amused undertone to every word Keith spoke and it had Lance’s lips quirking up. “You spend more time there than I do.”

Lance passed by one piece of cover, pausing. Up ahead, Keith was looking back at him, one hand pressed to a machine. “Said it before - you aren’t complaining.”

“How can I? You’re like a wounded animal. It’d be cruel to kick you out.”

Lance’s eyes were locked on Keith and he watched as Keith raised one hand, beckoning him forward. He moved instantly. “I’m not a wounded animal. I’m badass.”

Keith’s reply came as Lance settled against the next cover. “You’re crawling in the dirt. Real badass.”

As if Keith weren’t doing the same. “I’m going to catch you,” Lance said, “and then I’m gonna toss you off the arena.” He started forward again but Keith’s voice stopped him.

“Don’t move. He’s looking over here.”

Lance cursed softly, hunching down on instinct. Anxiety was still pooled in his gut, quelled slightly at the banter he and Keith had been carrying on. He was silent. Two pieces of cover were between them now - the machinery Keith had been leaning on before, and then a large rock. Then just Keith, kneeling behind a particularly large and twisted slab of metal.

Seconds passed.

Then - “Move. Now. Quick!”

He listened, darting forward and diving behind the machine. His heart was pounding; this was worse than the Galra because at least then he had a gun and his team and a giant metal lion. Amazing what those simple things could do for his confidence in a fight.

This wasn’t a fight, he reminded himself.

He had his back pressed against the machine.

Keith had moved back to the large rock, hand extended like he was waiting for Lance to grab it. Like he was pulling Lance back from the edge. He readied himself, started forward -

And then screamed violently when something snatched him by the collar of his armor. He kicked out as he was lifted up, screeching curses.

In his ear, Keith said, “Lance! Stop screaming.”

Lance was pretty sure his curses had derailed into angry shouts. He heard Avilus laughing, a great booming sound from close by. He twisted in the alien’s grip, fixing him with a glare that was a combination of fear and anger. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Avilus was grinning. “What is he saying?” he asked Keith, giving Lance a shake. “Translator isn’t picking that up.”

Keith was standing when Lance looked to him. He shrugged, arms crossed. “No idea.” His eyes went from Avilus to Lance with raised eyebrows. “You’re speaking Spanish.”

He hadn’t even realized. “I’m gonna have a heart attack,” Lance said. He was sure that was English. He put a hand to his chest, pouting. “Like, oh my god, I’m dying. That was worse than the Galra, Keith! This is horrible.” Avilus set him down and he took shaky steps to drape himself over Keith’s shoulders. “I hate him,” he whispered, hands skating over Keith’s armor. “Hate him, hate him, hate him.”

Keith raised one hand to pat his back beneath the armor. “I know,” he said quietly. “But you’re being overdramatic.”

“Fuck you, Keith. This is the proper amount of dramatic.”

“You probably burst my eardrums with that scream.”

“I hate you.”

“Mm.”

Avilus cleared his throat. Lance finally pulled himself off Keith to look at the massive alien. Now that his heartrate had evened out, he was a little embarrassed. Screaming was one thing. Being so terrified he slipped back to Spanish was another. Spending nearly a minute latched onto Keith was just too much.

Altogether, it was bad for the image he was trying to maintain. Lance McClain, unbothered by the arena and the fights, a shining beacon of normalcy, a positive force against Keith’s stupid angry face.

And he had just screeched like he was dying over a glorified game of hide and seek.

“I won,” Avilus said simply. “Now. Do it again.”

Lance wanted to melt into the arena floor. He groaned and Keith shot him a fierce look. “How long are we doing this?” he asked.

“Until I’m satisfied you’ve learned. Now go.”

He grumbled under his breath, turning to follow Keith through cover once more.

They were at for hours, Avilus catching up them over and over again. He always snagged Lance first, pulling him away from Keith with a sick grin on his face. It lost that element of fear after the third time, leaving him annoyed each time he was yanked to Avilus’s side. By the time Avilus released them, he and Keith had crawled around every piece of cover at least three times. They found more little hiding spots dotted around, skirted the trench at the floor’s edge, and Lance identified several spots that would make an ascent to the exposed pipes easier. They learned more about the arena’s haphazard layout than could be gained from fights.

Which, he supposed, was what Avilus was going for in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter;;
> 
> there's a fight.  
> keith is gay.  
> lance is a mess.  
> pidge exists.
> 
> (:


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith, a useless gay in space,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is so hard to write seriously when i named an alien celery

One of the aliens they fought today was the one Lance had dubbed Celery. All Keith had ever noticed before this fight was the eye stalks and the permanent frown the alien had etched into his face whenever he looked at Lance. An understandable reaction since all Lance did to the guy was make rude gestures and rude quips in his direction. 

Celery was slender and quick, wielded his own dangerous looking laser rifle, and seemed to had made it his mission to locate Lance. He ignored Keith right from the start, barreling past to charge at where Lance had dived behind cover. His partner was left behind, a big alien with long arms and double jointed legs. It’s sharp fangs bared in Keith’s direction, slitted eyes staring with a violent hunger. It reminded Keith of a raptor for some reason.

The raptor held a gun too, but this one was massive and caused the alien to hunch over slightly from the weight. Just Keith’s luck that he’d get the one with the bigger gun. 

It was a good thing he and Lance had picked up a few things from those nightly training sessions. 

The comms, for one. He fired off a quick warning - “Celery’s after you.”

Lance’s reply was instant. “Aw, quiznack. I hate that guy.” He sounded amused. “Gonna be fun to watch him try and catch me, though.” 

Keith didn’t reply. The other alien’s gun had turned toward him and he dove to the side, rolling through the dirt to the nearest cover. He took a breath to steady himself. 

For the last four nights, they had spent hours out here under Avilus’s watchful eye. Learning the arena layout, ways to get around quickly and unseen. They had fought against a pair of guards, against another pair of Avilus’s fighters, and had - just once - been given free reign to see what the Paladin armor was still capable of after their capture. If the limited comm connection and lack of bayards was ignored, the armor was fitted to them, made to be maneuverable in a fight but still strong enough to take hefty blows. Both suits were still capable of rendering a small shield for them. Only one set had a working jetpack. 

Crouched in the dirt now, Keith flicked his wrist and the shield sprang to life along his left arm. He waited there, listening for the alien’s footsteps over Lance’s quiet muttering. 

(“Stupid Celery. Always hated that vegetable.”)

He heard one footfall near him and sprang out from the rock, shield up and sword at the ready. As he expected, the alien reacted first in surprise, taking a quick step back before that gun was focused in his direction. Lasers thundered against the shield as Keith closed the few feet between them. He swung, missed by an inch; the fight moved fast. 

The raptor fired. Keith blocked it, dived to the side, struck out with the sword. He caught the alien in the shoulder, the back, one leg. Lasers pinged off his armor, hit the flightsuit along his stomach. Those stung, but the suit would hold up just fine. 

In his ear, Lance cursed quietly. “Little bastard’s quick,” he muttered. “How’s things on your end?”

“Busy,” Keith said. He lunged at the alien against, missing as it took a large step to his right. “I’ve got the one with the bigger gun.” 

That big gun was pushing a lot of bullets his way. The shield flickered at the edges, a small warning light pulsating on the visor of his helmet. Great. “And my shield’s giving out,” he added with a curse. He flicked it off, sprinting for the nearest cover as fast as he could. Lasers dogged his steps. 

Nothing from Lance except the dulled sound of his gun firing. “Bigger gun?” he said after a few seconds. “So… your guy is slower than Celery?” 

Keith peered around his cover. The raptor was approaching. “What’s your point, Lance?”

“Switch targets with me.” 

“What?” He was backing away slowly as he spoke, toward a machine he knew was right behind him. If he did this right, the alien wouldn’t even see him past the rocks in the way. 

“Look, Celery’s a quiznacking bastard and I hate him, but he keeps ducking behind cover after firing like two shots. And then he moves somewhere else when I drop into cover! It’s annoying. He’s annoying.” A pause wherein Lance let out a huff of air. Keith could practically see his eyes rolling. “Buddy. Pal. I hate to say it, but you’re faster than I am. This’ll be easier for you.” 

That made sense. If Celery was too fast for Lance to pin down, then a change was needed. Keith might be able to flush him out, but the raptor… “What about the other?” 

“No worries.” Lance grunted into the comms. “I’m getting a change of perspective.” 

By now, Keith was behind the machine. His original plan had been to watch the alien from here until he caught an opening, but if he went along with Lance, that was out. “Wait, how am I supposed to find Celery?”

He was never going to get used to using the name ‘Celery’ seriously. 

“Our door, left side.” 

Keith frowned. “That’s kind of general, Lance.” 

Lance laughed. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, my man. I got you. In just a minute.” He grunted again and Keith had the realization that he was, most likely, climbing up higher. “Go ahead and start that way. I can give you covering fire in a bit.” 

He stayed where he was for a few seconds more before leaning around a broken tread. The raptor was turning in a slow circle, eyes searching for him. Keith waited until its back was to him before darting away, squeezing between two slabs of metal and pushing on to the next piece. He knew the general idea of where to go and tried not to focus on the fact that Lance was going to be the only thing guiding him in a bit. They may have learned a lot more of the layout, but his memory wasn’t perfect. 

A flash of laser fire in midair drew his attention briefly. He headed that way without hesitation. 

Lance, almost jovially, chimed in then. “Ha! Take that, Celery, you dick.”

“Was that you?” 

“Nope. Him. He’s not happy that I’m up high and he’s stuck on the ground.” He laughed again. “His stupid gun can’t reach me. Oh, head a bit more left, by the way.” 

Keith adjusted slightly, heading for a different cover.

“Yeah. That one’s good.” 

Lance was lucky enough to have a working jetpack still. Neither of them had bothered to even try and figure out why Keith’s was busted, but it meant that Lance could boost himself up to all the exposed pipes and vents like he had wanted. It meant that Lance had a different view, that he’d have Keith’s back in situations like this.

That what Keith was hoping, anyway.

“Can your gun reach him?” Keith asked. “Because if it can’t, then you being up there is useless.” 

Lance clicked his tongue and Keith twitched. 

“Don’t do that! That was right in my ear, you annoying - “

“Keith, bud, you forget that I’m a sharpshooter and amazing.” A pause, Keith waiting for his next direction. Then Lance clicked his tongue again, giggling when Keith cursed at him. “Sorry, sorry. Move forward. He’s hiding by that one machine that looks like a bulldozer fucked a steam engine.” 

He knew exactly what that was, even if Lance’s description was a bit strange.  As he moved forward, heavy fire sounded from behind him. At the same time, Lance’s chatter cut off with a sharp “Woah!” and Keith paused. He craned his head up, trying to find Lance above him. Maybe it was the lights or the dark paint their armor had been given, but he couldn’t locate the other. 

“Lance?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” There was a rustling, the sound of a gun firing. Lights sparked from up above - there, though Keith couldn’t see him, was Lance. “Just surprised me. Keep moving. I’m fine.” He continued to direct Keith, gunfire passing through the comms every so often. Once, Lance cursed quietly, complained about the pipes being slippery, and ignored when Keith asked what he was doing up there. 

He laid out a plan instead, and as much as Keith wanted to argue, they didn’t exactly have time to come up with anything else. It couldn’t have taken much more than a minute for him to be approaching Celery. The smaller alien was hunched between covering - Lance said he was moving between them, like he was trying to either find a way up to Lance or find Keith to take him out first. The rifle was clutched in one hand. 

Keith kept low, moved only when Celery did. Short bursts of speed that had him right behind the alien. 

In his ear, Lance said, “See if you can disarm him.” 

He bit back a retort, raising the sword as he struck. The blade caught the alien’s back, scraping against the armor, leaving a line through the paint. Celery jerked instantly, spinning around, but Keith had already ducked away, sprinting for the nearest piece of cover. 

Lance was humming something under his breath. 

Laser fire behind him. Keith listened, trying to judge which direction the alien was coming at him from. 

Lance said, “Celery’s on your right. Raptor’s bookin’ it to you, so make it fast.” 

He was already moving, skidding around his cover to take Celery by surprise again. The alien reacted faster this time, the gun swinging to track Keith as he moved. Clouds of dust spread by his feet, lasers alongside it. Keith was in the alien’s personal space in seconds, the sword swinging up to catch the rifle, hold it with the barrel pointed away from the both. 

The idea here wasn’t to really hurt Celery, but to pressure him into seeking his partner. Make him get away from all the cover here and into the more open area of the arena, where Lance would have an easier time getting a shot on him. 

Disarming him should help with that. The sword could keep the gun away from him, but Celery had a lot of strength in that small body. He pushed back, and Keith held onto his weapon with both hands. 

Celery’s helmet had areas cut out for the eye stalks to raise out of it. “Where’s your annoying friend?” he ground out, eyes narrowed.

Keith ignored him. 

“Raptor’s almost there, Keith. Do something.”

“Like what?”

Celery’s irritated look faltered, confusion coloring his face. 

“I don’t know! Punch him or something!”

But both his hands were busy, so that left… 

Keith set his face in a grim, determined, smirk. In the second before he moved, the confusion left the alien’s strange face - and then Keith raised one foot, slamming it into Celery’s slim gut. He may not know anything about alien species and how they worked, but it was a fair assumption that most organs were in the stomach. Considering how the air left Celery’s lungs in a rush loud enough for Keith to hear it - how the alien hunched over himself instantly, eyes wide - yeah, that was a good call. 

He did it again, more of his strength behind it, and Celery was shoved off his sword. The alien stumbled backwards, Keith lunging after it, gripping the hilt of his weapon in both hands. He moved with violent swings, pushing the alien back. 

Gunfire behind him. 

Gunfire from above a mere second later. 

Lasers hit the ground by Celery’s feet and the alien jerked, tripped over himself. Keith’s next swing was accompanied with a shove, sending Celery to his back in the dirt. The rifle finally spun away, skittering through the dirt.

“Get the gun,” Lance said.

“I know that, Lance.” He was already running, pushing himself as fast as he could go toward the rifle. The gunfire behind him could only mean the raptor was close enough to spot him and he wanted to get out of the way for now. Sword in one hand, Keith didn’t stop running, snatching the gun up as he flew past. 

Over the comms, he heard the sound of Lance moving, the dim noise of footsteps on metal. 

Once he was safely behind cover again, he spoke. “What are you doing?”

The reply was quick. “Changing positions.” He sounded smug, which wasn’t surprising. “You’ll be glad to know it worked, by the way. Celery’s gone the other way, and he and Raptor are moving out in the open.” 

What now? Keith’s heart was pounding, half from adrenaline and half from the speed he had just pushed himself through. He took deep, slow breaths, forcing himself to think as his breathing leveled again. 

They had one enemy without a weapon. Lance had the high ground, more than capable of giving Keith accurate directions through the arena’s maze of cover. Their enemies had no idea how to get to Lance. They knew Keith was still up here, and were likely putting their heads together on how to get him out of the equation and then deal with Lance. 

Which meant Keith had to move. His back was against a rock, the sudden dropoff mere feet to his right side. The arena door, the entrance he and Lance knew, was in front of him. He moved left, from cover to cover. “What am I supposed to do with this gun?” he asked as he started forward. 

“Keep it,” Lance said. “What else? You can’t just leave it.” 

He could. “Why not?”

“Really, dude? You’re gonna leave that behind so Celery’s stupid little fingers can get hold of it again?” 

That… made perfect sense. His initial thought was that Celery wouldn’t have time to get back here, but with that guy’s speed, he might be able to pull that off. He grumbled anyway, about the gun being a hinderance. “I use a sword,” he said. “What am I gonna do with this?” He paused. “Also, where the hell am I going?”

“You won’t have to use it when we fight them.” Lance was annoyed with him, Keith realized, and a pang of irritation hit him low in his gut. “Think you can find that cluster of rocks near the center? Or do I have to walk you through that?” 

Arrogance was mixing into Lance’s voice, edging out the harsh tone of anger. If he was in front of Keith right now, he’d get a punch straight to his ribs. 

“I can do that,” Keith said, forcing his voice calm. 

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re throwing such a fit over a gun, I thought I was dealing with a child here.” 

“Can you not be like this right now?”

“Uh, what? You started this!”

“I did not!” 

Lance’s next reply was a poor imitation of Keith, his voice pitched too high. “ ‘How do I find Celery, Lance?’ ‘What do I do with a gun, Lance?’ ‘I’m too stupid to figure these things out on my own, Lance! Please help me.’ “

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“It’s kinda sad, honestly. Everyone thinks you’re such a badass, but you’re kinda dumb.” 

The fact that Keith actually liked this guy baffled him at times like these.

Keith wanted to yell at him, but for the sake of the fight they still hadn’t finished, he settled with cursing Lance. The whole time they argued, he was moving swiftly to the rocks Lance had mentioned. “You wanna shut up and do the one thing you’re good at?” he growled. The beginning of the small path through the rocks was up ahead.

Lance sputtered a reply that was half Spanish and half insults. “That was  _ mean _ , Keith!” he said finally. 

Wait, did he actually sound hurt? Or was that just an act? Keith floundered for a response and could only settle on, “You called me dumb.” 

Silence, for a few seconds, and then Lance’s quiet laughter was drifting through the comms. “Okay, yeah. I take it back then. That was a good one, buddy.” 

He wouldn’t have answered that even if Lance wasn’t being confusing. 

It’s a good thing Lance was still talking. “You should be close enough, by the way. They’re just on the other side.”

“Okay. You giving me a distraction?”

“Course I am. Wait, uh… say three seconds? Then jump Celery. I can handle the big slow one until you can back me up.” 

Until they could take the guy down together. Alright. Keith readied himself, poised by the exit as he waited for Lance to fire. He was sure he’d hear it - but it was so quiet, so distant, that Lance’s whisper of “Here we go,” was appreciated. 

Keith counted, adrenaline growing stronger with each second. Gunfire was loud here, the return fire from the raptor, no doubt. Once he reached three, he tore around the rocks and scanned the area for Celery’s lithe form. The alien was hunched down behind a jagged piece of metal a fair distance from his ally. His voice was loud over the gunfire but the words were indiscernible. Keith charged while Celery was distracted, crossing the distance between them in seconds. 

He swung and, out of the corner of his eye, spotted the dark figure leaping from the pipes. Couldn’t worry about that, about whatever Lance was up to, not when the end of this was in sight. Celery was ducking and weaving around him, but Keith was fast. His focus was drawn to the alien’s speed and small form, the way he dug his feet into the ground as he turned his body. Lance was yelling over the comms, insults hurled at the other alien. 

Keith shifted his stance, pushing Celery back with brute force before he spun, hooked a foot behind the alien’s ankles, and let Celery’s own momentum carry him over. Celery scrambled backwards, Keith slammed a foot onto the alien’s chest, and leveled the point of the sword at his unprotected throat. 

The anger in Celery’s eyes was matched only by fear.

He was moving on autopilot, all those fights with the Galra making it so Keith’s instinct, his reflex, was to end this now. But he’d talked with Lance about this, and the memory of that stupid relieved smile on Lance’s face was a solid reminder. No killing. 

He’d never meant to harm Celery, no matter how annoying he was to them. Instead of the killing blow his body had been intent on carrying through, Keith shrugged. He said, “Sorry about this,” raised his foot from the alien’s chest, and kicked him hard in the head. Celery’s eyes widened briefly and Keith waited to make sure he was actually out cold before turning away. 

With Celery out of the fight, the only thing left was the raptor. Too bad the first thing Keith focused on wasn’t the other alien, but Lance. He stood there, sword still tight in his hand, and watched for a few seconds.

Back on the ground, Lance was propelling himself from one rock to another, hovering in midair for a few seconds at a time with the jetpack. Each time he hit another rock or metal or machine, Lance was firing. Even as his body adjusted to the landings, he was firing - and there was a split second where he let up on the trigger, where the jetpack kicked in and he was moving faster than the raptor’s gun could keep up. 

In midair, he fired again. 

The raptor’s bulky gun and large frame left it too slow to keep tracking Lance as he kept up a barrage of fire. It was… kind of impressive, actually.

Keith should say that. Instead, he asked, “Did you jump down here?” 

For a moment, Lance paused. His head turned in Keith’s direction for a fraction of a second. “Yep.” Then he was lifting off from a rock and flying in Keith’s direction. “Celery down then?”

“Yeah.” He was moving toward the raptor now, trying to figure out the best time to jump in the fight. He could strike it in the back if Lance would keep its attention like this. “Can you keep this guy turned on you?”

Lance huffed. “I was kinda hoping you’d take some of the heat off me, actually. Those bullets hurt.” 

“You’ve been hit?” 

“Kind of hard not to be.” 

“When?” All that frantic jumping Lance was doing, and he had been hit? 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Keith was close enough to hear the raptor’s annoyed stream of growls and curses. He started to circle around it, trying to match its speed and ease around it. “Are you hurt?”

“Keith, really?” Lance was hovering above the raptor again and Keith glanced up to meet his gaze for a second. Then Lance’s gaze dropped to the alien. “We’re too busy for this, man.” 

If Lance was hurt, Keith was pretty sure he shouldn’t be jumping around like that. With a sickening roil in his stomach, Keith recalled the still healing bruises that covered Lance’s body. “Fine,” he said. “Then we’re ending this quick.”

“Huh?” 

Keith was attacking before the word even left Lance’s mouth, aiming a slice at a section of the raptor’s back that was uncovered by the armor. He pulled away and was on the alien’s other side before the raptor could turn to see what happened. 

“Jeez, Keith!” Lance was firing on the alien’s other side. “Didn’t want a plan for this?”

“My plan,” Keith said, grunting as he landed another hit, “is to take this guy down before he shoots you again.” 

Lance was silent. The gunfire didn’t stop. Neither did Keith. He stepped around the raptor quickly, increasing the frequency of his swings with the sword. The raptor’s skin was thick, and it was shooting glances at Keith with increasing frustration. It took one hand off its gun to swipe at him and Keith dodged it, jumping backward. Claws topped its hands. 

While it was distracted with Keith, Lance was peppering its head with fire from directly above it. When it moved to swing out its free hand at him instead, Keith darted forward and struck it hard in the back of its knee. Shortly, the raptor abandoned its gun, leaving it at its feet as it tried vainly to snatch either one of them. 

By now, Keith understood how these fights ended. Despite the pair of them overwhelming the alien to the point where it should logically surrender to them, the fight wouldn’t end if it did. Anyone in the arena lost either by death or a knockout. All they could do was circle the raptor, watching as its attempts to get them slowed.

Keith let Lance land the final blow. He stepped aside, watching as Lance’s hail of bullets into the alien’s back sent it to its knees and, finally, into the dirt facefirst.

It felt like it had been ages.

It was probably only two minutes from when Keith had knocked Celery out. 

Keith stared down at the massive alien. Lance came to stand beside him, clapping a hand to his shoulder. He was smiling when Keith turned to him. “We won,” he said, voice quiet. “We actually quiznacking won.” 

An identical smile was growing over Keith’s face. The adrenaline from the fight was fading, both of them breathing heavy from exertion. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we did.” 

Lance turned his head up. “I think they’re cheering, man.” 

Keith didn’t want to think about that. He hadn’t for the whole fight, had managed to forget that an audience of aliens were watching every move of theirs. He searched for something to say, something to pull Lance away from the audience. “Hey.”

Lance looked back at him, his eyes bright behind the helmet’s visor.

“Nice job,” Keith said, “Sharpshooter.”

And then Lance was beaming, laughing. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith was already committing the brilliance of that look to memory. 

Lance slung an arm around Keith’s shoulders. He turned Keith in the direction of the exit, where a pair of guards were already entering. “You weren’t so bad yourself, samurai,” he said, winking.

He had to will himself not to grin right back. “Don’t give me nicknames.”

“Guess I can always keep callin’ you Mullet.”

He did grin at that, shaking his head. “No. Samurai’s better than that.” Even if it was lame. It wasn’t an insult and it was from Lance, who was looking at Keith with such happiness that Keith was going to explode. He knew it was from the fight - Keith was happy they’d won too, glad they had finally shown how good they were in a fight, how they could work together - and he knew the warmth in his gut wasn’t necessarily because of the other boy.

But Lance was close, his arm still around Keith, and his eyes were too bright and shone, and his smile was attractive and infectious - 

Christ. Keith was too gay for this. 

He eased himself out from Lance’s grasp as they walked through the arena doors, putting a bit of distance between them. He let a guard by the door take the sword from his hand, stopping a few feet away from the armored aliens. He sighed, reaching up to pull the helmet from his head. Lance stood beside him, of course, his helmet already under one arm. His grin had faded into a confident smile, and he looked Keith over with a snicker. 

“Nice helmet-hair, bud,” he said. He reached over, ruffling his hand over Keith’s hair.

Keith leaned away, trying to frown and failing, catching Lance’s eyes and smiling instead. They had won, there was a pleasant ache in his muscles from the fight, and if they lucky, this good mood wouldn’t fade for a while. For the first time in days, he felt like his stress was actually manageable

Which had to be why Avilus was walking toward the pair of them. His light smile dropped in an instant and he heard Lance growl curses under his breath.  Avilus clapped a hand on of their shoulders, a wide grin splitting his face. “Boys!” he said. “That was what I was hoping for.”

Avilus’s excitement was a slap in the face.  

“I’m glad to see you work together and actually win,” Avilus continued. He lifted his hand off Keith to gesture at the two of them. “Finally feels like I’m getting what I paid for.” 

The last dredges of adrenaline were fading away with each word from the alien’s mouth. 

Avilus was shaking Lance lightly, ignoring the boy’s displeased noises. “Don’t let this win fool you. You’ll still be training every night, and every one you face in the arena will still want to kill you.” He let go of Lance with one last pat to his shoulder.

Lance sighed. 

Keith was tired. The ache of a fight was no longer pleasant, but something that needed soothing and rest to rid himself of. 

Avilus turned away from this, gesturing for them to follow. “Let’s get you out of that armor,” he said, “and I’ll tell you what to expect tonight.” 

✦✦✦✦✦

Pidge woke up in her Paladin armor, helmet beside her, slumped against a wall. It didn’t take long for her to realize that she had quite literally passed out while walking back to her room after their last mission. 

The one time she decided not to stay and work in the hangers, and this is what happened. 

She turned into her room with a yawn, stripping the armor off and tossing it onto her bed. The bedsheets was unmade, blankets pooling onto the floor and cast over piles of stuff. The room was even more of a mess than usual, seeing as Pidge rarely bothered to sleep here anymore. Too far from her work station for one thing. 

For another, a bad drawing Lance had given her was taped by the bed. It was supposed to be of all the Paladins, scribbled with quick lines with each person labeled by their head. She still wasn’t sure if it was a serious drawing or just something stupid, but it was stuck up there by her own - much better - drawing of Voltron. With the two boys still missing, looking at the stupid thing was just depressing. 

Once her armor was gone, she shimmied out of the tight flightsuit and pulled on her much comfier clothes instead. Her glasses weren’t in the room, which meant they were likely still down in the hanger. She’d get them after eating something. She headed out of the room and down the hall, yawning into the baggy sleeve of her sweater, mind already starting on the day’s work.

Which was, as usual, what to do about their missing Paladins. 

Keith and Lance had been missing for precisely twenty-two quintants, or just over three weeks. There were still no leads on them, no new ideas from anyone on what to do next. 

Allura sent them out to take out small unimportant Galra bases and Pidge downloaded intel from each one, decoding it later. The information was used to find other bases or learn about where their ships were going - nowhere useful. She took note of where the Galra were going, what they were doing, any points of interest like ‘hey, Galra might attack here’ with a planet’s coordinates or something. And then she’d give it to Allura and watch as the Princess and Coran logged it in the universe map. 

And after two of these trips, Allura would take the Castleship in close to some creepy, dusty place. They would all disembark - minus Allura, usually - and set about seeing if anyone had anything interesting to say. 

Pidge had given up asking the locals and visitors of these places about Keith and Lance. Every place they visited was dirty and smoky, filled with aliens that sold suspicious wares, had too many weapons, and stared at her like she was meat. They never knew anything. She left the actual investigating for Shiro and Hunk, going along to distract herself more than anything else. 

They wouldn’t find anything at these places, she was sure of it. But since her last idea had given them nothing but busy work, she wasn’t going to say anything. 

In the kitchens, Hunk was snoring. He sat on a stool at the bar, face pasted to the counter, mixing spoon still in his hand. Pidge gave him a sympathetic look as she walked past him. Unlike herself, Hunk still hoped one of these places would hold the key. She pulled a plate from a cabinet, piled it with space goo and some weird pink meat before spooning some sickly looking sauce onto it from the bowl before Hunk. She ate while she walked, taking the familiar path down to her lion. 

Tomorrow, they would be in another pirate run space station.

Today, Pidge had Galra intel to decrypt. 

She was half finished with her plate by the time the elevator stopped. As soon as she walked through the Green lion’s hanger doors, the presence of the beast prodded at her with a soothing reassurance. Pidge offered the lion a smile around the spoon in her mouth as she took her seat at the desk. Her glasses sat on the keyboard; she slid them on after setting the plate aside and set to working. It’d be slow going - the last base they hit had had a lot more information on its systems than the previous one. 

It could take days.

She only paused when her back started to ache, when her stomach was rumbling too loudly to ignore. The plate beside the computer was empty, only the sauce left behind. She stared at it, sighed, and stood with a long stretch. A hum worked out of her throat as she pulled her arms over her head, back popping. “See ya later, Green,” she said. She stopped by the lion to pat its giant metal leg. “I’ll be back soon.” 

The lion sent her back contentment with a rumbling undertone. Like a purring cat. She smiled - brief, tired, no real life to it - and set off back to the kitchens. 

Not that she made it. Halfway there, she caught sight of Shiro turning a corner ahead of her and a spark of curiosity had her pausing. Other than missions and dinner, she rarely saw their leader. It was like he ceased to exist once the Paladin armor came off and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what he was up to all the time. Pidge stood in the hall, eyes squinted in the direction he had gone. Her stomach growled again, but she ignored it to go after him. 

It took a while. She couldn’t have spent more than a dobosh considering it, but Shiro had already wandered off again. Pidge walked the halls, peering into empty rooms and climbing staircases. In the back of her mind, she knew she was doing this to procrastinate, to put off going back to the hanger to see the information unraveling into nothing again. Trailing Shiro in some fruitless chase was just a lot better than that - than the useless shit she was spending her time doing. 

When she found him, it was on luck. She had gone through a door only for it to shut on her, leaving her in a small hallway with only one exit. And through that door, she found a wide open room with a sitting area like the lounge - couches sunken into the floor, a small sets of steps off to one side. 

Shiro sat on one of these. He had turned when the door opened and met her eyes with a smile. “Oh. Hey, Pidge.” 

She returned the greeting, attention wandering to the walls. Every wall but the one with the door was set with huge windows, the stars unraveling behind them. 

“I didn’t know anyone knew this place was here,” Shiro was saying. “Well… Other than Allura and Coran, at least.” 

It couldn’t be windows. They’d been out on the hull of the Castle and there weren’t any windows whatsoever. “What is this?” Pidge asked. “How are there windows? There can’t be windows. We’re in space.”

Shiro laughed, a quiet sound that drew her attention back to him. “They aren’t windows,” he said. “I think they’re like viewscreens. This is what’s outside of the ship.” 

She guessed that made sense. Moreso than windows, at least. Slowly, she walked forward, letting herself drop onto the seat beside him. Her knees met her chest and she rested her arms over them, chin on her forearm. “An observation room,” she said, eyes flicking from the unknown constellations to Shiro. “When did you find this?”

He was looking outside. In the dim light of the room, the shadows under his eyes were intense. “Few months ago, back when - when Keith and Lance wouldn’t stop fighting.” He sighed, eyes closing briefly before snapping open and settling on her. “I just needed some place quiet.” 

She mulled it over for a few ticks. “It’s nice up here,” she said. 

“How did you find it?” 

She looked at him and frowned. “I just followed you. Wanted to know what you’ve been up to all the time.” 

Shiro raised an arm to gesture at the view before them. The smile on his face was tired and strained. “Looking at the stars,” he said, “and thinking.” A pause. “Wondering what they’re up to, really.” 

A pang shot into her chest. “Oh.” This was Shiro’s way of dealing with the absence of the two, his way of keeping calm during this whole mess. Part of her regretted coming up here instantly. She lowered her gaze from him, studying the floor. It was too dark to make out if the floor was even clean. Before she thought about it, she was saying, “I… I’ve been trying not to think about them.” 

The words fell heavy between them, hitting the floor like bricks. Pidge drew her legs even closer to her chest, not looking at Shiro or the stars. “I can’t,” she said. “We don’t know where they are or what’s happening to them or if they’re okay or anything. It’s driving me crazy.” Shiro’s hand settled on her shoulder, heavy and cool - the metal arm, fingers squeezing light as her breath hitched. “I’m supposed to try and find them,” she said, “but I’m just… I’m not doing anything. All this Galra stuff isn’t helping, but it’s all I do anyway.” 

“It’s alright, Pidge,” Shiro said. “Everyone’s struggling.” 

She stifled a sob in her sleeve. 

“We’ll find them,” he said. “None of us are going to stop looking, even if we don’t have much to go on. And, to be honest, I think we’re all distracting ourselves.”

Why the hell was she even crying?

“Allura and Coran are using all your ‘Galra stuff’ to keep busy,” he continued. “Hunk cooks more food than we can ever eat, and when he isn’t doing that, he’s going from lion to lion and cleaning them with some weird Altean stuff Coran found for him.” 

She shot him a watery stare, sniffling. “I haven’t seen him,” she said, “and I spend every day with Green.”

Shiro shrugged. “I think he’s spent the past five days with Blue, honestly. Said he wants to make sure she’s sparkling for Lance when he returns.” 

At that, she snorted a laugh. “I’m sure he’ll love it.” She rubbed her eyes with one sleeve, knocking the glasses askew. 

Shiro said, “Red wouldn’t let down her barrier. I found him one day before a mission begging her.” 

Pidge giggled, gave Shiro a grateful smile. “Sorry for crying,” she said. “I don’t know where it came from.” He didn’t reply but gave her a look that said enough, that it was alright, that he didn’t mind. She took a few doboshes to make sure she was calm again, that no more errant tears would come out of nowhere. “So, do you just spend hours up here, looking at stars?”

“Yep.” 

“Can I join you sometimes?”

“Do you even need to ask? Just don’t bring your tech. This is a no work zone.” 

As they fell into silence again, she relaxed into the couch, into the presence of another person. They looked out at the stars together, and when Pidge spoke again, she was sitting cross-legged, eyes on a bright star in the distance. “I hope they’re okay.”

Shiro’s response was instant. “I hope they’re not arguing.” When Pidge snickered, he added, “Hey, I don’t think Keith could last three weeks if all Lance did was annoy him, and I’d like both of them back in one piece.” 

✦✦✦✦✦ 

They had a single day’s break between fights. Avilus ran them ragged for hours the night before, pushing them through drills and practice fights, and then winding it down with nearly two hours of chasing them through the arena again. It was exhausting, Avilus’s arrogant voice goading Keith to the point that he lost it at Lance and snapped at the other boy’s anxiety induced muttering. 

He knew Lance didn’t like Avilus on the best of days, knew the other boy hated Avilus, was frightened of him in close quarters. He understood it - the bruises were still covering Lance’s skin, healing slowly. Keith had spotted him that morning in the showers, half dressed and frowning down at the marks littering his body like the sight disgusted him. It probably did. 

And after hours of Avilus’s bullshit - the taunts, the obnoxious way he was always trying to “correct” Keith’s fighting style, the way he called to them from across the arena as they fled behind cover - he cracked. He crouched behind the bulldoze-steam-engine monstrosity, glowering at where Lance was hunkered down ahead of him. 

Lance was muttering in Spanish, quiet and hurried, a nonstop whisper in Keith’s ear. 

Keith wanted to listen for Avilus approaching, but he couldn’t hear past Lance and he was just so goddamn tired of this. “Lance,” he snapped, foregoing all semblance of keeping quiet. “Can’t you shut the hell up? I’m tired of listening to you.” 

Lance had turned in his direction, the frown on his face visible. “Dude - “

“No. I’m sick of it. All you’ve done is complain and whine and act like you’re too weak to handle this shit. I’m tired of it. You’re not helping.” 

Lance’s reply was dry. “Tell me how you really feel, Keith.”

“You’re a fucking coward,” Keith spat. 

Needless to say, Avilus caught them while Keith was spewing insults and Lance was snapping back at him. That night, Lance had climbed up to his own bunk after sending a searing glare at Keith. He said something vicious in Spanish before turning his back. 

Keith’s own anger had faded quickly after Avilus released them. He spent more time awake than asleep, frowning at Lance’s bunk above him and wondering what exactly he did next. Did he apologize? He probably should; he hadn’t meant to let his anger out on Lance, just wanted him to be quiet. 

The fight the next day wasn’t until the afternoon. Lance barely addressed Keith at breakfast, avoiding him afterward. Keith caught sight of him twice, hounding after the pink-skinned guard, and left him be while irritation bubbled beneath his skin. When they met to change into their armor, Lance spared him a glance - his eyes were clouded, guarded, and he watched Keith as if he was looking for a weakness.

Keith frowned at him. The apology was on his lips when the guards ushered them out of the room and into the arena. 

It was a rough fight. One of the aliens wielded a huge sword, attacked in large swings of the thing. The other was a sniper and wouldn’t allow Lance to climb up to the pipes. Each time he hovered even a foot above cover, a shot was slung his way. 

They were a mess. Lance was too quiet on the comms, his typical chatter faded back to necessary callouts and quiet curses. Keith was annoyed more by the silence than the usual nonsense, and it showed in his sloppy swordsmanship. 

After one particularly bad swing, Lance spoke to him. “Geez, Keith,” he said. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be good.” 

“Do not start with me,” Keith said, dodging the huge sword and a sniper shot in an awkward sideways shuffles. “You’re the reason I’m messing up!”

“Hey! Don’t blame your shitty skills on me.” 

“Then help me!”

The argument was useless, petty, and stupid. It derailed into both of them snarling insults at one another, until Lance brought up the previous night. “You’re the one who wanted me to shut up,” he said. He was pinned down by sniper fire, unable to help Keith fight off the other alien. “Figured I better do what you wanted, since you’re so great and all.” 

Keith all but screamed, “You know I didn’t mean any of it!”

Lance made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a dying animal. “How? I can’t read your mind!” 

The alien got in a nasty hit while Keith was distracted, throwing him backwards several inches into a rock. The breathe was knocked out of him with a gasp, leaving him wheezing in the dirt. 

And Lance was still talking. “Y’know, you always did say I talked too much. On the Castle, during missions. Always wanted me to shut up. So forgive me,  _ Keith _ , if I figured you were serious here too.”

The alien was approaching. Keith bit back a groan as he pulled himself back up. 

“Next time, I’ll just ignore you and keep talking.”

“Lance. Shut up.”

Silence, for a beat. “Wow. See? You’re a dick!”

“Lance! Shut up and help me.” He managed to parry the next swing, but barely. 

“Oh! Shit! Yeah, okay, I’m comin’, buddy.” 

They pulled off the win, but barely. The alien with the sword was taken down once Lance was able to shoot at him. It was hard to avoid both a sword and laser fire. As for the sniper, it took Keith abushing it and Lance sneaking up behind it to take it down. Up close, it abandoned the sniper for a pistol and its’ aim was deadly. 

Avilus was less than pleased with the two of them. He lectured them in the training room as they stripped off the armor, but Keith couldn’t be bothered to care. Lance was giving him constant looks with raised eyebrows, eyes questioning. 

Keith had no idea what his deal was. 

It wasn’t until night that all those looks made sense. Lance had climbed up to his bed and Keith was just drifting off when a noisy shuffling made him open his eyes. He watched Lance’s head peek over the bunk, and then the other boy had slid half his body off his own bed to peer at Keith.

“What?” Keith said. It came out on a sigh. 

“You’re not mad, are you?” Lance asked. “Like, we’re good? We’re cool?”

He snorted. He had never really been mad at Lance in the first place. “We’re cool.” 

A smile lit up Lance’s face. “Nice,” he said, disappearing again. His voice drifted down. “Hate not talking to you.” 

There was another fight the very next day, another early one. They had barely finished breakfast before a guard was ushering them upstairs and into the training room to get ready. Lance was in a much better mood now, flashed grins and winks at Keith as they pulled the armor on. 

If Keith’s internal tally was correct, today marked three weeks of being in the arena. Twenty-five days since he had found Lance on that planet. He chose not to mention it to Lance, let the other boy talk about who they’d be facing, how it’d be easy, how the two of them could take on anyone in this place and win. It was hard not to be confident in them listening to that. 

It made the loss that much harder to process. 

As far as Keith could tell, neither he nor Lance had made any huge mistakes. Their opponents had guns and knives, able to switch to melee or ranged on a whim. They were strong, tall, practically towered over Keith as they fought. They were simply better. It could have been better teamwork, better knowledge of the arena, better weapons. Whatever. It didn’t matter. 

Keith was knocked out first - not completely unconscious, but the hit he took left him weak enough that he couldn’t stand by himself. Everything he saw blurred together and it hurt to breathe. He may be conscious still, but he wasn’t getting back up. He couldn’t even make out what Lance was saying through the comms. 

They lost. He didn’t know what happened with Lance, but a guard helped him to his feet and to the training room. The short, grumpy medic came to them and Keith got a first-hand experience with a strange instrument he had seen before - it’d been used on Lance the last time a fight went badly. The pain in his head cleared up. The pain in his ribs stayed. 

After the medic left, it was just Keith and Lance, staring at one another. Lance stood just to the side of him, helmet on; Keith was in the middle of the room, his helmet discarded at his feet. A few seconds passed between them and then Keith spoke. “What… exactly happened to you?” 

He knew what happened to him. An enormous alien had thrown him halfway across the arena. 

Lance’s eyes dropped to the floor. “They broke my gun,” he said quietly. “Like, nearly snapped it in half.” He crossed his arms, fingers tapped against the plate of his other arm. “I couldn’t do anything against them.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” Then, so quiet Keith nearly missed it, he said, “Take my gun away and I’m useless.” 

Keith frowned. “Lance - “

Before he could finish, the door to the room slid open. They looked over in unison at Avilus; he held a piece of a rifle in each hand and, as they watched, he tossed the pieces into the room. They settled in the dirt by Lance and he sighed, eyes still on the floor. 

“I know,” Lance said. “I know I messed up.” 

Keith’s frown deepened. If an alien broke his gun, how was that Lance’s fault?

Avilus was advancing on them. “You did,” he said, eyes on Lance. He walked past Keith without pausing. “How did you let them get your weapon? They shouldn’t be able to touch that, let alone break it. Especially now that you’ve started prancing about on top of the pipes! They shouldn’t even be able to touch you.” 

The alien had stopped mere inches in front of Lance, and Keith had to take a couple steps backward to look around him. Lance was staring intently at the floor, shoulders hunched. “I fell off,” he said. 

“How?”

“Keith got hurt. I wanted to help him, and I slipped.” 

Avilus raised a hand and Keith jolted forward in an instant. He didn’t want to wait for Avilus to strike out - if he was going to - and leave new bruises when the ones Lance already had were healing. He shoved past Avilus, forcing the alien to look at him as he stood beside Lance. “Why don’t you lay off him?” he said. “I was the one who got knocked out first.” 

Lance hissed his name and Keith stepped on his foot to shut him up. 

“Fine.” Avilus looked ready to kill him. “Next time, don’t let an enemy grab you.” 

“It’s not something I make a habit of, so don’t worry about it.” Keith met the alien’s gaze with a fierce glare, shifting so that he stood just in front of Lance. Avilus was easily a foot taller than him, but Keith was going to shove his fist down the asshole’s throat if he swung a fist.

“Don’t you dare get mouthy at me, you brat.”

“I’ll take the blame on this one,” Keith said, raising his voice over Avilus. “It was my fault.”

“It was not,” Lance said, ignoring the look Keith sent his way. “I was watching you, dude. You did fine! How are you supposed to predict a guy dropping his weapon to snatch you up? That’s crazy.” 

“If I had stayed on my feet,” Keith said, his glare redirected at Lance to try and tell the idiot to shut the hell up, “then you wouldn’t have fallen in the first place. We could have won.” 

Lance glared right back at him. “Stop trying to cover for me! I fucked up, okay?” 

“Then I fucked up first!”

Avilus’s booming voice shut them both up. “Each of you messed up,” the alien said. “You both cost us the win. As far as I’m concerned, both of you need to learn to take these fights seriously because the last two matches, you behaved like children.” He pointed one massive finger in Keith’s face. “You need to stop throwing yourself at your enemies without thinking. It’s clearly not doing you any good.” His finger turned to Lance. “And you depend too much on your partner. Obviously, you can’t rely on him always being up to help you. Learn to manage on your own.”

Keith was seething by the time he lowered his hand and stepped away from them. His fists were clenched at his sides and he was vaguely aware of the irritated huff of breath Lance gave beside him. 

Avilus said, “Get out of your armor. Expect to train longer tonight than you have before. I am not playing games with you two.” He didn’t leave the room while they stripped the armor off, merely shoved the crate for the pieces over to them. 

As he pulled the pieces off and set them in their place, Keith focused on calming himself down. He hated Avilus and the alien’s presence alone irritated him, but if he was still this angry when he left, he was liable to take it out on Lance. Again. 

On the Castle, he could have taken his anger and aggression out on training droids. Here, he had nothing beyond the arena’s matches and during those, he was focused on winning. The fight itself may give him a way to release some of his pent up frustrations, but beyond that… Beyond the arena, Keith had scheduled training with an alien that only served to anger him. He had strangers and cramped, crowded quarters. He had Lance. 

He had to stay calm, and if repeating Shiro’s mantra of  _ patience yields focus _ was the only way to do it, then so be it. That phrase could be scratched into Keith’s skull at this point. 

Once the armor and flightsuits were returned to the crate, and the pair of them stood in their bland arena given clothes, Keith made for the door. Lance’s footsteps followed. 

At the door, Avilus stood. He eyed Keith passing him and said nothing, but then threw an arm out to catch Lance. “Not you,” he said. “I need a word with you.” 

Keith was already outside the door. He glanced from Avilus to Lance, ready to drag the other boy away, and then the door slid shut in his face. He stared at it, surprised, before reaching for it. The door was supposed to open as it registered someone near it. There was no keypad, nothing that required a hand or a DNA check or anything like that. Just a simple motion sensor.

That, apparently, wasn’t working right now. Keith kicked the door, waved his hand in front of it, hissed curses under his breath. All for nothing. The door stayed shut, and all he could do was stand there and wonder what was happening. 

Maybe Avilus had decided it was easier to hurt Lance if Keith wasn’t there. If Lance was on the other side of that door being beaten again, Keith was going to take the next chance he got to swipe one of those weird sporks from the kitchens. He was going to stab Avilus in his stupid mocking eyes until the alien cried for forgiveness. 

The door slid open after only a couple of minutes. Lance stood just on the other side, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. His eyes were trained down and he when he raised them, surprise etched through his face. “Holy crap, Keith,” he said, recoiling a step back into the room. “You had to stand right there? Scared the crap outta me.”

Keith frowned at him. “Did he hit you again?” he asked, reaching for Lance’s arm.

Lance let him, stepping out into the hall. The door slid shut behind him. There was barely two inches between them. “No,” he said. “Just… talked some.” 

Keith was running his fingers over the fading bruise on Lance’s arm. “I’ll kill him if he hurts you again,” he said, looking from the bruise to Lance’s face. He blinked. 

They were a lot closer than he had realized. 

“Is that how you care for people?” Lance said, amusement sparking in his eyes. “Murder?”

Keith frowned. Lance’s skin was warm against his hand and his fingers twitched with the urge to just touch, trace his veins up his arms. Keith let him go and stepped back, starting forward to the stairs. “Whatever,” he said, looking over his shoulder. Lance was a step behind him, gaze on the floor. He looked forward again as he pushed the door to the stairwell open. “So what did he talk to you about?” 

“Oh. Uh…” 

He was already at the landing between floors before Lance continued. 

“Nothing, really. Just some of his annoying tips, that kind of thing.” 

Keith stopped two steps down to the next level. He turned, eyeing Lance. “That’s all?”

Lance had stopped on the landing, by the railing. He flashed Keith a grin that didn’t quite light up like it should. He glanced at Keith briefly before his eyes slid off to stare at the door down below. “Yep. That’s it.” 

“Couldn’t he have done that with me in the room?” 

“I dunno. You’d have to ask him yourself.” He started forward, aiming to go around Keith. “Let’s go, man. Standing in the stairs is weird.” 

There was a still a smile on his face but it wasn’t reaching his eyes at all. The closer he got, the more obvious it was - Lance was distressed or upset or  _ something _ . It was all over his face, in the false quirk of his lips, the furrow in his brow. Keith stepped into his path, leaving Lance a step above him. “Something’s bothering you,” he said. 

The fake smile had vanished the second Keith blocked him. “What? I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.” Keith had spent three weeks now with only Lance as company, had seen him angry and amused, tired and in pain and anxious, and that brief moment of outright elation after that first win. Even before this, with others around them and an entire Castle to wander through, Lance’s fake smiles had stood out. Keith had never bothered him then, confident that Hunk or Pidge would be better to talk to. Now, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What’s wrong, Lance?” 

Lance stared at him, one hand on the railing. He blinked, frowned. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?” he asked, quiet. 

Keith shrugged one shoulder. “I’m all you got to talk to.” 

“That’s true.” Lance sighed, gaze dropping to the floor. His free hand came to run through his hair, and Keith followed the motion with his eyes, watching Lance tug at a lock of hair. He was quiet, the frown on his face deepening. Seconds passed and all that happened was Keith crossing his arms, Lance dropping his hand. “I just… really don’t like it here,” he said finally. 

“Neither do I.” 

“I don’t like it,” Lance repeated, “and I don’t like Avilus, and I don’t like that we’ve got no privacy.” He looked up again, meeting Keith’s gaze briefly. Anger flashed in his eyes but it was drowned out by the sheer amount of unhappiness. “We have to talk in a damn stairwell, Keith! This is stupid.” He paused, glancing away again. “And - and I don’t like that, even here, everyone thinks you’re better than me.”

That wasn’t what he expected. Keith frowned, leaning back. One foot caught on the edge of the step, nearly sent him toppling over - Lance let go of the railing to snag him by the arm, pulling him back. “I’m not better than you,” Keith said. He reached for Lance only for the other boy to let go and step back onto the landing. “Lance.”

“Avilus acts like you’re some kind of - of - “ He made a frustrated noise, gesturing at Keith with both hands as he finished his sentence in Spanish. 

Keith made his way onto the landing with him. “You know I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know! I’m stressed! I can’t remember the word in English, okay?” He was moving away as Keith approached, backing up and turning away until he faced the railing. Down below was the end of the staircase, the door to the second level. “The point is,” he said, “Avlius thinks you’re great. The other aliens probably like you better. Even Khattala told me the other day that she likes you.”

“I - I can’t help that,” Keith said. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten Lance talking because he had absolutely no idea what to do or say. He had thought that Lance was just annoyed about Avilus, would need to vent about whatever ‘tips’ he’d been given. 

“I know you can’t,” Lance said. He leaned over the railing, glancing at Keith out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not blaming you. It’s just frustrating, and,” -a pause, where he looked down to the door below them- “Avilus wants to give me back.” 

That took a second to sink in. “Give you back?” 

“Yeah. Like, to the slavers.” 

An old familiar spark of anger was lighting in Keith’s gut. He moved forward to join Lance at the railing, to lean over and try to get the other boy’s attention. “He’s not giving you back,” he said, anger flaring as he spoke. “I won’t let him.” 

Lance spoke as if he didn’t even hear him. “He thinks he’d be better off with just you, said you’d be fine fighting solo. Said you’d probably do better without me weighing you down.” 

Keith gripped the railing tightly, knuckles turning white. 

“That’s what he told me today,” Lance continued. “Not any tips. Just that if I keep messing up, he’s returning me and keeping you, because you’re the better one of us and you don’t need me.” 

“He’s full of shit,” Keith said. “He’s not going to just give you back.” 

Lance looked his way with a smile, and Keith swore part of him broke. That look was filled with sadness and the next words he said echoed it. “He could, though. He could give me back.” 

Keith shook his head. He raised a hand, wanting to comfort Lance and unsure of how exactly to go about doing it. Slowly, he laid it on Lance’s shoulder. “We’re a team,” he said quietly, “and whatever Avilus says is bullshit. I don’t care what he thinks. We’re staying together.” He wanted to say that he wasn’t better than Lance, that Lance’s skills were on par with his, that they were better together than they would be apart. What came out was, “I don’t want to be without you.” 

He flushed immediately. “I - I mean. I don’t want to be alone?” 

That wasn’t any better.

Lance blinked, then chuckled. The sadness drew back from him a little. “Geez, Keith. Have you always blushed so much?” 

Keith snatched his hand back, taking a step away. “Shut up,” he said. “You know what I meant.” 

At least Lance was smiling again - a real one, this time. He stood up straight, saying, “Yeah, I think I do. We said we’d stay together here, right?” 

Keith stared at him blankly until the memory resurfaced. The pair of them on that prison ship. Those very words spoken as a promise. He nodded. 

They were silent now and it felt awkward somehow, tension heavy between them. Keith was sure he was supposed to say something else, that anyone else in this situation would know what to say to dispel everything negative Lance was feeling. His head was too filled with dull anger at Avilus and the memory of being sold together to make any room for words. 

At least it was Lance that broke the silence.

Not that he made it any less awkward.

“Hey. Can I, uh… can I hug you?” 

Keith was utterly incapable of words. He stared, wide-eyed, surprised. Lance was looking at him and there was a light flush high on his cheeks, the tips of his ears. Keith blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then just nodded. Relief flooded Lance, his smile brightening his face again, shoulders losing tension as he stepped forward. 

A hug. Okay. Not like Lance hadn’t hugged him before. 

He could totally hug someone. 

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, tugged him forward, and Keith rejected that idea. He couldn’t hug anyone, let alone Lance. Not when Lance’s arms were heavy around him like this, hands against Keith’s back. Definitely not when Lance was holding him so close that their chests were pressed together. There were a few seconds were Keith was sure he was going to melt from the heat of the blush on his face. 

There was only an inch or so between them, an inch of height in Lance’s favor. It allowed Lance settle his chin against Keith’s shoulder, lean their heads together. When he spoke, it was directly into Keith’s ear. “You gotta hug back, dude,” Lance said. His voice was soft.

Keith was going to die. He made a noise that was supposed to be in affirmation but sounded more like he was choking, and raised his arms to slide around Lance. His hands shook when he laid them on Lance’s back, moving slowly to rest against his shoulder blades. 

Lance was laughing, quiet and soft. His breath tickled Keith’s ear.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Keith muttered. He was well aware he was reacting strongly, that his heart was thundering against his ribs. It was stupid. It was entirely because of how goddamn attractive Lance was, of how good it felt for Lance to hold him like this. 

He hated liking people. 

Hugs should not be like this.

Lance said, “Can’t help it. It’s like you don’t know how to hug someone.”

“Lance.” 

“It’s cool.” One of his hands was rubbing Keith’s back. “It’s kinda cute, actually.” 

Keith twitched, hands tightening on Lance. “Don’t call another man cute.”

Lance laughed again, squeezing Keith against him. “Sorry, but there’s not really another word for you right now.” He pulled his head back just to look Keith in the eye and grinned. “Especially not when you’re that red. Holy shit, dude.” 

“Shut up.” Keith scowled, ducking his head. He could still see Lance as the grin faded to a smile and started to pull his arms away. “And let me go. I want to shower.” 

“Hm, you do kinda smell funky,” Lance said. His arms stayed tight despite his words. 

“So do you.” He rested his hands on Lance’s shoulders, took a breath that smelled of the other boy  - and he did smell of sweat, but it was faint. Mostly, he just smelled like Lance. And Keith hated it because he didn’t mind it. At least the heat had left his face. He glanced up to meet Lance’s eyes, raised an eyebrow. “You gonna let go?”

There was color rising in Lance’s face again as he slid his arms from Keith. “You’re free,” he said, smiling. 

Keith was going to pretend he didn’t miss the warmth. He turned, started back downstairs without another word. 

Footsteps followed him. Then, Lance’s quiet voice, “Thanks, Keith.” 

He faltered, glanced behind him. He didn’t say anything, turning away and pushing the door to the next level open. 

✦✦✦✦✦

That night, Avilus had them training until long after the other fighters had laid down to sleep. The door to the barracks sliding open was met with murmured complaints from the nearest aliens. Neither of them spoke, and when they reached the bunks, Lance was too tired to climb into his own. He laid down beside Keith, squirming underneath the blanket with the other boy. 

Keith must have been exhausted, too. He didn’t even give Lance a second glance before rolling onto his side, back to the other boy. 

They were asleep within minutes. 

There was no telling what woke Lance, but he was dragged from sleep in the middle of the night. The barracks were still dark when he cracked an eye open, so he closed it again and decided to just go back to sleep. No need to be awake until someone made him get up, until the lights were on and aliens were chatting. He tightened his arm around what he was holding onto, snuggling closer. 

Sleep may be clouding his mind, but Lance was aware enough to know that there was someone here with him, and he had thrown an arm around them. His other arm was under his head, fingers curled in soft hair that wasn’t his own. He thought he should move that arm before it went numb, and sighed instead, nosing at the skin of the other person. Soft skin along their neck, soft hair along the side of Lance’s face. Nice. His knees were bent behind theirs, thighs pressed together. 

It was comfortable, and warm, and Lance flexed his hand on their stomach. He flattened his palm against their shirt and felt the muscle jump under his skin. They squirmed in Lance’s grip and he smiled against their shoulder, eased up on how tight he was holding them.

Then, they muttered in their sleep and Lance’s sleep addled mind punched him.

This was Keith. He had rolled over in his sleep and latched onto Keith. That was Keith’s skin he was feeling, Keith’s hair he was touching, and Keith’s ass mere centimeters from his dick.

It was that last thought that had Lance pulling away. He moved slow and careful, not wanting to wake Keith and deal with the fallout. Once he was safely away, Lance settled on his back, arm over his stomach, other hand rubbing at his eyes. He sighed. 

This wasn’t even the first time he’d woken up in the middle of the night like this. It was the third. At least the other two times, Lance had realized quick that he was cuddling Keith. There hadn’t been time to think about it - really, there wasn’t much to think about anyway. Sometimes, Lance cuddled people in his sleep. He’d done this very thing to his siblings when he was younger, had done it to Hunk at the Garrison and a few times on the Castle. Had even slung himself over Pidge once or twice. Shouldn’t be any different with Keith. 

Lance yawned, stretching his legs out. He ran his hand through his hair before letting it fall behind his head on the pillow. 

Unlike the others, Keith had felt nearly perfect in his arms. Like, just the right size to hold like that. It was nice. If it wouldn’t have been so weird to deal with in the morning, Lance wouldn’t have moved at all. He gave Keith’s sleeping form one last glance before closing his eyes. 

At least Keith wouldn’t know it happened. As long as Lance kept waking up first, Keith would never know about his tendencies to cling to people. It was better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo whaddup this is updating biweekly now. Would have said so last update, but I thought everyone deserved sleep cuddler Lance asap
> 
> Anyway next chpt:  
> \- lance makes alien friends  
> \- arena zeta has a surprise in store 
> 
> See ya in two weeks. Be careful if you're hurricane paths, etc etc


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the best people to befriend are the ones who could easily kill you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look there are so many aliens.
> 
> How to Guide for Pronoucing Alien Names: 
> 
> \- y'skai: is-kai  
> \- u'ilani - u-ill-ahn-ee  
> \- khattala - cat-tala (the h is silent)
> 
> avilus should be easy. 
> 
> anyway enjoy the whole thing is filled with aliens god i love aliens

Days passed without incident. They had four fights, the last of which they lost, and neither of them were too upset by it. Not even Avilus seemed all that angry - which was a definite change for the better. He had simply looked over them both, made a comment about how there was still room for improvement, and then left them alone. 

Lance wasn’t complaining, but it still set him on edge. 

Both he and Keith had been knocked unconscious during the fight, had learned how it ended from the guards. Short version? One of the aliens had a whip, had snagged Lance mid-air and slammed him into the ground. Keith had been overwhelmed after Lance was taken out. The medic was called down to see to their head injuries, and then they were freed.

But, damn, Lance was getting fed up with this. He followed Keith down to the cafeteria for some post-fight food, squinting in the lights. It wasn’t even that bright in the arena, but he was fairly certain he’d had a concussion before fancy alien tech fixed it right up. As they crossed the entry to the cafeteria, he started complaining. About the arena, the rules of fighting, the fact that they even had to fight at all. 

They hadn’t even made it through the line before Keith turned and fixed him with a glare. “Lance.”

He shut his mouth with a snap. 

“Shut up,” Keith said. “At least let me eat.” 

Lance glanced down at his empty tray, then back up at Keith. They had managed to arrive at the tail end of lunch, had joined the very end of the line. An alien in front of Keith gave them both a glance as Lance took a breath. “Buddy,” he said, “I am dying in this arena. This place is going to be the death of me, I just know it.” 

Keith heaved a sigh, moving forward. He said nothing.

So Lance took his silence as a sign to keep talking. “Don’t you ever wonder why the arena’s rules say we have to knock each other out? We could just as easily win without all the head injuries.” He went on in that vein for a while, talking at Keith more than trying to start a conversation. He nodded at the slim alien who gave out the food, not even pausing while he talked. “If I get one more concussion,” he said as they sat down, “I’m going to quit.”

Keith had already shoveling food in his mouth. He looked up at Lance with a vague disinterest.

They’d been unable to find a table not already occupied. Lance sat in front of Keith at the very edge of one of the tables. A pair of strange aliens sat on their other sides. They almost looked like twins. One of them said, “You can’t quit.”

Lance glanced over. The alien had four arms, two of which were poised on its hips. It had two sets of eyes, all of them with slanted pupils, like a cat. “What?”

“You can’t just quit,” the alien repeated. “What, are you new?”

“Uh, no,” he said. He and Keith had been here about a month, he thought. That wasn’t new. 

The alien made a strange noise low in its throat before reaching out to poke Lance with one hand. It ignored Lance’s protest, grinning a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. “He’s still soft,” it said to its friend. “Still new.” 

Lance smacked its hand away with a frown. “I know enough to know how this place works.”

“Then you know enough to know you’re a slave,” the alien said. Its grin widened when Lance flinched reflexly. “Accept it, boy. You’re a slave and you can’t just quit.”

“I’ll find a way! Like, I dunno. Stage a protest?” 

The alien snorted.

Why were all the aliens here so goddamn condescending? 

The one beside Keith spoke up - and, ah. This one must be a female. It’s voice was lighter, lilting. “Who is your owner?” she asked.

Lance made a face.

Keith was the one who answered. “It’s Avilus,” he said. 

The alien beside Lance made that strange noise again, higher than before. “Oh, please stage a protest. I want to see Avilus deal with that.” 

The female made a similar sound, shoulders shrugging. Her lower hands folded onto the table in front of her. “Avilus is ours as well.” A pause, where she exchanged a look with the other. “I do have to ask now, though,” she said as her gaze flitted back to Lance. “Are you the ones he purchased a phoeb ago?”

Another pair of aliens that Avilus had claimed. Who he ‘owned.’ There were so many things running through Lance’s mind right now - he wanted to ask these two, no matter how arrogant and annoying the one beside him was, all the questions about Avilus and the arena that burned at him. Things he hadn’t ever paid attention to that now burst into life at the mere prospect of having someone to answer them. He glanced between them, and what poured out of his mouth was, “That’s like a month, isn’t it?”

The aliens said nothing.

Keith said, “Yeah, Lance. That’s a month.” He nudged Lance’s foot under the table and when Lance looked his way, Keith was raising his eyebrows. He held his spork-knife-thing in one hand, still in his half-eaten food. That look was the one he used when he wanted Lance to shut up, when he thought Lance was going to say or do something stupid.

Which, okay, he kind of understood? He had spent enough time around Keith by now to know that the other boy outright distrusted every alien in this place, had picked up on enough cues that Keith didn’t want to socialize with them. Keith didn’t want to talk to them, look at them, would spend his time alone if Lance wasn’t with him. 

But Lance was not letting this opportunity get away from him. These two could open up so much information for them and - 

The faint hope of escape perked up in the back of his head. There was a chance that learning more about this place and the way it was run could show them something they had missed before. 

Lance aimed a soft kick back at Keith, turning his attention back to the alien. “Yeah,” he said, offering her one of his patented charming smiles. “That’d be us. Why? Has he been talking about us?” 

Beneath the table, Keith had kicked him back. 

The one beside Lance said, “You guys caused a stir when you first came here. Two partners who refused to leave each other, right? Even climbed on stage together when you were sold?” It folded its arms over its lap, upper arms laying on the table. 

Lance nodded. He didn’t like to think about that day, but it was permanently etched into his memory - that flare of fear when Keith had been snatched away from him, the momentary panic that they’d be separated and he’d lose Keith in this place. 

Speaking of Keith… Lance kicked him again, harder this time. 

“Which one is the Galra?” the alien asked, looking between the two.

A brief look of discomfort passed over Keith’s face and his eyes locked onto his tray. 

Lance spared him. “It’s a mystery,” he said, voice light and a grin covering his face. He winked at the alien and it once again made that odd noise in its throat. The grin fell from his face when Keith aimed a sharp kick to his ankle. He glared at Keith, kicked him back, and then his foot was caught between Keith’s own. “Keith, you dick,” he hissed. 

Keith smirked at him.

The aliens exchanged another brief look. “What are you two doing?” the girl asked. 

For some reason, a flush was rising over Lance’s face. He said, “Nothing,” but he said it too fast and Keith was grinning at him like an asshole. “Keith’s just… the worst,” he groaned. He tried to pull his foot back only for Keith to tug it closer to him, one of his feet sliding toward Lance. 

The aliens were watching them and Lance shoved a spork loaded with strange alien meat into his mouth to avoid saying anything else. He was glaring at Keith, watching as the other boys grin faded back into that irritating smirk. His calf rubbed against Lance’s own, warmth spreading from the contact. His other foot was hooked around Lance’s, the weight of his ankle steady along the back of Lance’s boot. 

Lance wondered just how much strength Keith was using to keep his foot pinned. 

Then Keith turned to the alien girl beside him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” he said with a gesture across the table. “Lance is usually talking. Can’t get him to stop, really.” 

She turned a curious gaze to Lance and then back to Keith. “Is he hurt?” she asked. 

“The medic saw him.” 

The alien beside Lance had leaned over, one hand raised to hide its mouth from the two across from them. “I know what’s up,” it said in a low tone. It winked - at least, Lance thought it did. It had vertical eyelids and horizontal ones and only the vertical lids had closed for that second. “Your partner has caught you, hasn’t he?”

Lance stared at the alien, eyes narrowing. In the literal sense, yeah. “Kind of?” he said. “Depending on what you mean.” He gave his foot an experimental tug and Keith responded in turn, pulling him an inch forward. Lance sighed. “Yeah, no, okay. I’m caught alright. Annoying bastard.” 

The alien’s face split into a wide grin again. It leaned back with another odd sound, clapping one hand to Lance’s shoulder. “Happens to the best of us,” it said. “Figured you two were close, what with that show of staying with him. Don’t worry. It may not be common in Zeta, but no one here will judge you for your bond.” 

That was an odd way to put it. Lance opened his mouth but before he could speak, the alien was offering one of its lower hands to him. He paused, then raised his hand to shake it.

The alien took his hand in both its lower hands, squeezing instead of shaking it. Okay. Alien greeting, he assumed. “My name is Y’skai,” it said, “and my fool sister is U’ilani.” It released Lance’s hand, though the hand on his shoulder didn’t move.

The other alien - U’ilani, huffed across from them. “I should have introduced us,” she said. To Keith, she added, “ ‘My fool brother’ makes much more sense, I promise you.” 

Part of Lance was still chasing a thought - that what Y’skai said about him and Keith had sounded way too weird - but he still managed to speak up. “Wait. Are you two twins? ‘Cause you look really, really similar.”

Y’skai nodded. “Of course we are. Siblings are born in pairs,” he said.

U’ilani said, “Not every species is like that. I imagine Earthlings are different?”

He really didn’t want to get into this with a pair of weird aliens, but it was happening. The rest of their lunch was covered with U’ilani asking more questions about Earthlings, each one somehow more uncomfortable than the last. She tried to drill answers out of Lance about ‘Earthling mating cycles’ and when he refused, started in about the Galra instead. Keith completely turned away at this, meeting Lance’s uneasy stare with his own, redness creeping fast over his face. 

Lance made up some excuse to get them away from the table then. As they walked away, he could hear Y’skai berating his sister for chasing them off with her questions. Neither of them spoke as they left, but Lance knew Keith was going to blame him for that awkward conversation. That was alright. Lance blamed himself for it too.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t planning on talking to the strange twins again, though. 

He found Y’skai in the lounge the very next day, bent over a deck of cards. Lance paused in the doorway for a second, eyeing the alien as all four of his arms shuffled the deck at once. It sent the cards curving in two small arcs above the table. Lance sent a glance back down the hall toward the stairs. He had headed up here after leaving a grumpy, sleepy Keith to the showers, told Keith to come find him when he was more awake. Who knew how long that would take? He had some free time to kill.

Lance made his way to Y’skai’s table, skirting around one alien’s tail and between two other tables. The alien looked up as Lance approached, a smile springing to life on his face. When Lance took hold of the chair across from him, Y’skai nodded, letting go of the cards with one hand to gesture at Lance. “By all means,” he said. “It’ll be good to talk with you again.” He leaned forward as Lance sat down, lowering his voice. “I’ll admit it. I’m curious. You’re the first human I’ve met.”

“Well, you’re the first, uh…” He paused, brows raised.

“Ralthurian,” Y’skai supplied.

“Right. Ralthurian. First one I’ve met,” Lance said with a curt nod. He eyed Y’skai’s four arms for a moment before catching the alien’s gaze again. All four eyes stared back at him. 

“You’re staring,” Y’skai said.

“Yeah, sorry. The four arms is throwing me off.” He watched as Y’skai shuffled the cards with all four hands again. “Especially when you do that. That is something you never see on Earth.” 

The mention of Earth sent a quiet pang through his heart that he ignored in favor of the brillant sharp-toothed grin on Y’skai’s face. That odd high noise from yesterday rose from his throat. “The only two-arms on Ralthurias are outcasts and social pariahs. It was quite a shock meeting races who are considered whole when they’re lacking two limbs.” He let go of the cards with his lower arms to raise them, palms up. There were small claws on each of his four fingers. A dirty red cloth was wrapped tightly around the lower left hand. 

Lance scoffed, flashing the alien a grin. “I’ll have you know I’m considered quite handsome on my planet.” 

“Impossible. You are thin and your two arms make you weak.” It was obvious he was joking, his shoulders rising and falling in time with another noise. “Also, you’re short.”

“I am none of those things,” Lance said. He put on an offended look and ramped it up to twelve just to make sure Y’skai could tell he was joking right back. “You’re just abnormally tall. And,” he paused, raised a brow as he looked Y’skai’s bulk over, “weirdly buff.”

It was a strange conversation, banter that was only partially forced in order to keep things lighthearted. The alien’s eyes were dark and sharp, focused on Lance in a way that made him sure every movement was being followed. All four arms moved fluidly. Though Y’skai kept a smile or a grin while they joked, his face didn’t seem to allow for the wide range of expressions a human could pull. It made things a bit difficult to read into, the lack of facial expression impacting Lance far more than he would have anticipated. 

Not to mention the strange sounds the alien kept emitting.

Still, they joked and when Y’skai asked, “Do you play?”, he only nodded when Lance admitted he had no idea what the cards even were. Y’skai offered to teach him, waving Lance closer with a lower arm while his upper hands started to deal out the deck. 

Soon, his sister, U’ilani, joined them. She took Lance’s previous seat, demanded her own hand of cards, and set about helping her sibling teach him the rules. It turned out to be somewhat like blackjack and uno mixed together. If blackjack had seven suites, and the goal wasn’t 21 but something that sounded suspiciously like ‘yearning tunas’ when U’ilani said it. By the time Keith found him, Lance had learned several things. Like, U’ilani was sharper than her brother in terms of wit and could make even insults sound like compliments. Y’skai was harsher but had a more joyful air. That strange noise turned out to be their species way of laughing, which he only found out when they mocked his own.

Keith had come to stand beside him, staring down at the cards in Lance’s hands. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Lance glanced up at him and smiled.

Y’skai said, “We are teaching him. Sit. We’ll teach you too.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer, demanding over and over until Keith scowled. 

“You’re annoying him,” U’ilani said, watching Keith drag a fourth chair to their table. “This is why you don’t make friends.”

Y’skai clapped one heavy hand onto Lance’s shoulder. “Lance is my new friend,” he said, voice solemn. “I made him all on my own.” 

Lance snorted into his cards, laughter bubbling up. There had to have been a way to phrase that that didn’t sound so ridiculous with such a serious tone. 

Across from him, Keith had glanced between all of them before catching Lance’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows, a smile growing slowly over his face. After a brief pause, Lance was returning it. “You made alien friends,” Keith said. “We’re trapped in an arena, and you made friends.”

“What can I say? People like me.” He laid his cards flat on the table, ignoring the obvious look Y’skai was giving him, and winked at Keith. “Doesn’t matter where I am, baby, aliens love me.” 

Keith shook his head, lowering his gaze, but the quirk to his lips was obvious. He could try to be angry and stoic all he wanted, but Lance counted it as a win for him every time he got Keith to smile.

✦✦✦✦✦

Both of them were getting too used to this place. A lot of the worry and anxiety Lance had built up had slowly ebbed away. It was still there, but in a more manageable level - really, it only got bad if either of them were injured in the fights, or when Avilus was angry and snarling at him. 

It was hard to worry too much when they had fallen into a routine. They ate, they slept, they trained. During their off hours, they started to hang out with the twins. Though, Lance was positive Keith was only coming along because he’d rather be with the three of them than on his own. Sometimes, Lance argued with Celery and occasionally Keith would glare at the wrong alien and almost start a fight. 

All in all, pretty normal, basic stuff. 

So long as Lance didn’t focus too much on the slavery aspect, anyway.

A few days after meeting Y’skai and U’ilani, he asked Keith, “How long have we been here now?”

It was nighttime, Lance lying in Keith’s bed. In the dark, he couldn’t make out the color of the other boy’s eyes. “Over a month,” Keith said. 

“In the arena? Or altogether?”

“Altogether.” He was lying on his side, eyes staring straight into Lance’s own. “I stopped counting for the arena. Didn’t seem to matter.” 

That made sense. Lance thought about the days they had spent here and the time leading up to it and squirmed. A knot of anxiety was building in his gut. He broke eye contact with Keith to stare at where his hand lay between them. The sheets were a dark grey beneath his fingers, Keith’s pale skin stark against them. “I wanna go back,” he said, a touch over a whisper. “I miss the Castle.” And everyone on board. 

Keith didn’t say anything for a while. The silence stretched on so long that the anxiety in Lance’s gut was morphing into an ache of sadness. He glanced up to Keith’s face again to find that Keith had lowered his gaze as well. Lance wanted more than anything for his friend to say something that would stop his thoughts in their tracks. All he could think about was Hunk and Pidge, and Coran’s weird speeches, and Allura in all her royal beauty, and Shiro and Blue and the poor cow. 

Finally, Keith said, “I know it’s hard.” He had locked eyes with Lance again, a fierce determination in his gaze. It was so familiar and so like him that it was comforting. “This place is awful, but we’re going to get out. They can’t keep us here. We might have to wait for the others to find us, but we can make it.” He paused, gaze flickering over Lance’s face before he closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. “I promise you,” he said, “we’ll get out of this place and get home.” 

He meant the Castle, their friends, their home away from Earth - and Lance knew that. He also couldn’t stop himself from remembering Earth and the beach, and he smiled. Homesickness shot into him to settle alongside the sadness, which hurt, but he smiled anyway. Keith believed every word he said and if Lance couldn’t be strong in the wake of that, he was a bigger mess than he thought. 

He was reaching for Keith without noticing, needing to feel the person next to him, to further ground himself. His fingers curled around Keith’s wrist and he watched those dark eyes widen, heard the sharp breath Keith took. For a beat, his smile faltered but then Keith relaxed, an unsure smile crossing his face. 

Lance should say something. It was probably weird to lay here and stare at Keith like this in silence. Especially when Keith was shifting his arm under Lance’s fingers to bring their palms together. He glanced down as he laced their fingers together, decided he didn’t want to talk about the arena anymore or the Castle or their friends. None of it. Instead, he latched onto the first random thought that spun past. 

“You said something once,” he said, looking back up. “About finding a planet to relax on when we get out.”

Confusion passed over Keith’s face for a few seconds. It faded into realization and he nodded. “Yeah. I guess I did. What about it?” 

“I’d like that,” Lance said. “We gotta find somewhere with a nice beach.” 

Keith huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “And breathable air.” 

“Definitely.” 

“A nice sky, too.” At Lance’s urging, he elaborated: “The planet you crashed on had gross looking skies. I want to look at something nicer.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fair.” He squeezed Keith’s hand in his for a second, adding, “Need me some nice scenery after this place.” 

Keith hummed his agreement. 

“And nice looking locals too,” Lance said. “ ‘Cause I need a break from you and that mullet.” He flashed a soft grin when Keith shot him an unimpressed look. 

“Funny. Can they be smart? After all this time with you, I’ll need a change.”

He dropped the grin for a frown. “Ouch, Keith.”  

They exchanged more insults, more ideas of where to go - good weather, Keith said; rain, Lance said - until they had painted a world. Somewhere with similarities to Earth but with a deep purple sky and two suns. Somewhere filled with beauty and colors. Lance said, “I guess we could bring our friends,” with a heavy sigh, “but it’s totally our world.” 

At that, Keith dropped his eyes to their joined hands. A faint flush dusted his cheeks. It was barely visible in the dark. He spoke and Lance almost missed it. “Yeah. Just for us.” 

Lance brushed his thumb along the side of Keith’s hand, trying to soothe whatever had gotten to him. “We deserve it.”

After a few seconds, Keith met his eyes again. He said, “You’re not going back to your bed, are you?”

In answer, Lance squeezed his hand again and scooted closer. 

Keith sighed. He didn’t make him leave. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The twins had a fight the next morning and spent the afternoon telling Lance and Keith all about it. They had won, and Y’skai took it upon himself to describe the obvious mistakes their enemies had made. When it came time to, they left the twins and showed up to Avilus’s nightly training without a guard coming for them. 

Each night was still spent in the arena, combing the floor of it - or, in Lance’s case, crawling over the pipes. He was learning which pipes were too slick for his boots to get traction, which ones pumped heat through the arena and were too hot for him to stand on for too long. There were places where the pipes crossed over one another and left blind spots on the arena below. A catwalk passed over where the arena lights hung, but Lance liked to avoid it, use it only if necessary. He had run across it during one practice fight only to have an alien on the ground pick up on the sound. Keen alien ears plus heavy armored boots did not make for stealth. 

So while Avilus pitted them against other teams of aliens, against guards, Keith kept to cover until Lance could get himself into position. If Keith happened to get attacked before then, Lance trusted him to defend himself. 

Tonight, Keith was fine. He was skulking around some rocks when Lance was ready. By now, the guards Avilus threw at them knew that Lance was up high, that he was feeding Keith directions. Avilus insisted on them having the knowledge, said the other fighters in the arena would wisen up to their tricks soon enough. “You have to be prepared,” Avilus said, “for your enemies to know that you’re up there.” Which was evident in that past loss; Lance didn’t think he could forget the sensation of a whip tangling around his leg. It was rare for anyone to be able to reach him, but it happened. 

The guards they faced currently were armed like most others - rifles, knives. Nothing too long range. Lance stuck to the usual, updating Keith when the guards moved around the arena, keeping an eye on both his enemies and his partner. Whenever gunfire dinged off the vents near him, or happened to actually hit him, he moved to a different pipe, a different vent, a new point of view. 

By the time Avilus let them go, Keith had been pinned twice and disarmed once. He had swung a fist at the face of the guard who managed to disarm him and Lance had landed a shot in his back, so that was basically a win anyway. Laser fire had scuffed up the legs of Lance’s armor. It was nothing, but it got him thinking.

Keith said to him, “They barely touched you.” 

“Yeah, but it sucks,” Lance said. “Someone shoots at me, my instinct is to run - “

“And here I thought you’d stand still and take it.”

“ - but those vents - shut up, Keith - those vents are slippery.” He sighed, pulling the helmet off. Their weapons had already been retrieved by Avilus, the alien leading them out of the arena. “I’m gonna fall off, I can feel it.”

Keith glanced at him. His helmet was already tucked under one arm, his hair sticking to his head. Little flyaways were everywhere, and Lance wanted to ruffle it badly. “You have a jetpack,” he said. “Use that.”

“That’s not the point, man.” If he fell off, there’d be a few seconds of fright, of that stomach-dropping feeling, of him thinking he’d hit the ground. And a few seconds where he wouldn’t be able to help Keith out. He mulled over the best way to get that across to Keith while they entered the training room. “It’s like… if I’m falling,” he said, tugging pieces off his arms, “who's got your back? No one. You’ll be on your own out there ‘cause I’m in midair like an idiot.”

Keith liked to change with his back to the wall, eyes on the door. He also didn’t want Lance to look at him, so Lance stared at the crate their armor went into until Keith was decent. It was fine, but it meant Keith was basically speaking to his back at times like these. “I can handle myself,” he said. Sounded irritated. 

“I know you can, but - “ He paused, grunting as he unlatched the chest piece. “I already leave you alone while I’m getting up there.” 

“What’s your point, Lance?” 

“My point,” Lance said, “is that I don’t like leaving you to fend for yourself.” There had already been too many times where Lance was unconscious or preoccupied since they got here. More if he counted all the months in Voltron. The incident that led up to this, where he crash landed on a planet and was no use to anyone, was a huge one. “What if you’re hurt ‘cause I got distracted?” 

Keith’s voice came from beside him when he spoke and Lance jerked despite himself. “You’re fine,” Keith said. He had discarded the armor off his torso and arms and stared at him with fierceness in his eyes. That stupid mess of his hair drew Lance’s attention again. “If that ever happens, I won’t blame you.” He paused, gaze averting for a second, sighing. “I trust you,” he said, “and I know you’ve got my back. Not just here, but anywhere.” 

He knew that already, but it was nice to hear. He smiled, said, “Yeah, alright. But I’m holding you to that. No yelling at me for falling, got it?”

Keith rolled his eyes, stepping back again. “Whatever.” A few seconds passed, and then he spoke again. “What brought that on anyway? We did fine tonight.”

Lance was packing his chest piece back into the crate. “Avilus,” was all he said in answer. After so many weeks of this, there wasn’t a need to say more. In the silence that followed, he put away the pieces for his arms and then started to pull at one covering his boots. “I could watch you better,” he said as it came off, “if I had a sniper. Those sightlines are amazing up there and that rifle just doesn’t cut it sometimes.” 

Just like that, they lapsed into easy banter about weapons and the fights they’d had so far - both real and training. Lance was yawning by the time he pulled his clothes back on; he stretched as they walked back out the door, pulling his arms over his head until his back popped. 

In the hall, Avilus was waiting for them. He was usually gone by now, disappeared off to wherever he stayed. The sight of him stopped them both in their tracks. “Tomorrow, you train solo,” he said. “Be ready. Someone will fetch you when it’s time.” He walked between them without another word. 

They watched him go until he headed through the door at the end of the hall. “He had to tell us that now?” Lance said, eyeing Keith. “Never has before.” 

Keith shrugged, already on his way to the stairwell. “Don’t think it matters much.”

Lance started after him. “Yeah, but why tell us now? Why not tomorrow?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“You really don’t think it’s odd?”

“Nope.”

“Keith.”

“Lance.”

Lance huffed, nudging Keith with one shoulder as they descended the stairs. “You’re not much for conversation right now,” he said.

In answer, Keith heaved a loud, obviously fake, yawn. 

Point taken. He let it drop, but the thought chased itself in circles in his head throughout the night. For whatever reason, Avilus was giving them solo training. It had been weeks since he had separated them, and to give them a warning about it made it even stranger. Lance climbed into his bunk wondering what was in store for them tomorrow and that ran into why the sudden change. Did Avilus think they had improved enough as a team to concentrate on their individual skills? Was he separating them permanently? He had said that Keith could fight on his own just fine, so it was possible - but, then, why bother at all with the duo training? 

It kept him up late, until exhaustion weighed more than his thoughts and sleep pulled him under. By morning, all of it was quieter and dulled even more by an early fight. An easy win; Lance was uncontested on the high ground and Keith performed fantastically well on the arena floor. He would have forgotten it entirely if it weren’t for something the twins said during lunch. 

They were in the middle of discussing the food - Y’skai said it tasted fine, Lance disagreed wholeheartedly. All food here tasted like hot garbage smelled, and he was busy dissecting the slab of meat on his tray. “This can’t be good for me,” he said, slicing into it with a stubby knife. It was dark purple, almost a murky grey color. “It tastes terrible, smells terrible, and looks like someone solidified vomit.”

Keith, sitting beside him, sighed at that. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance watched him set his own knife down. 

Across from him, Y’skai scoffed. He held his piece of meat on a fork, held in the air like a trophy. “Are all humans so picky?” he asked. “This is fine food!” 

“It’s disgusting,” Lance said. 

Keith shoved his tray forward. “Yeah, I can’t finish it.” 

Lance gestured at Keith with his knife, saying, “See! Keith agrees!”

“You made me lose my appetite,” Keith said to him. “Why’d you have to compare it to vomit?” 

U’ilani sat by her brother, her meal finished, empty tray before her. She glanced between the three of them as the conversation derailed quickly from food to Keith and Lance exchanging insults. With a high-pitched noise, a sound that Lance immediately identified as her laughter, she drew their attention. “You two are so high spirited,” she said. “I hope you keep it up over the next few quintants.” 

A remark to Keith died in Lance’s throat. He raised his brows at U’ilani. “Why? Is something happening?”

She blinked at him, the upper set of eyes before the lower. “You don’t know,” she said.

Y’skai paused in devouring his meat to add, “Avilus likes to surprise his new fighters. You know this.” 

“Surprise them with what?” Keith said. 

The twins exchanged a look. Y’skai made a complicated gesture that consisted of a shrug with his upper arms, palms of his lower hands flat towards the sky. Faced with it, U’ilani sighed, folding all four hands on top of one another. “It’s a tournament,” she said. “Everyone in the arena fights in it, if they’ve been here long enough. It happens every few phoebs.”

Lance glanced at Keith; the other boy’s attention was focused on U’ilani. Keith said, “Why haven’t we heard about this?” 

“You don’t exactly talk to a lot of aliens,” Lance told him. 

“And it’s not a popular subject,” U’ilani said. “Most of us here don’t really talk about it. It happens, we participate, our lives move on.” 

“The ones that do speak of it,” Y’skai added, “aren’t those you will have associated with.” He gestured with one upper arm over the cafeteria. “Half of us in here right now will end up fighting one another. It can get… gruesome.”

Part of Lance wanted to ask for details on that. The other, smarter, half had seen enough atrocities from fighting the Galra that he didn’t need to. His mind supplied images for him, of tortured aliens and splotches of odd colored blood. Hopefully, this tournament didn’t end up that bad. 

Keith had completely abandoned his tray. “Can’t you tell us anything else?”

Y’skai leaned over to stab his fork into Keith’s piece of meat. “You need more? Okay.” He took a bite, then continued. “You’ll be forced to fight a lot of teams. You may be split up and forced to fight solo. It’ll go on for a few quintants.”

“About five,” U’ilani said. 

“And you get no treatment from the medics throughout,” Y’skai said. He shoved the remainder of the meat into his mouth with a satisfied grumble.

They didn’t have anything else to add to that, aside from U’ilani telling them they would be fighting until they lost. Unsurprisingly, she said that Avilus liked his slaves to win a lot of fights, if not the entire tournament. The twins excused themselves shortly after, leaving to their own fight today. That left Lance to ponder over what he’d learned, chin in one hand as he spun the fork idly through the remnants of his food. 

Beside him, Keith was tapping his fingers on the table. After a few minutes, he said, quietly, “Avilus is going to put us in that tournament on our own.”

Lance looked at him to find Keith staring down at the table, his hair in his eyes. “How do you know that?” 

“That solo training tonight,” Keith said. “There’s no other reason to make us train separately.” 

If that was true, then Lance was screwed. He wasn’t like Keith, couldn’t go against the aliens here on his own and come out the winner. He’d be lucky to make it past one fight seeing as he was better suited for covering someone else. Add to that the lack of a medic visit, once Lance lost in a solo fight, he wasn’t going to be much use in a duo one either. “This is gonna suck,” he said. 

✦✦✦✦✦

His solo training was with Khattala again. She picked him up outside the lounge a couple hours after lunch. Lance had been in the middle of a card game with the twins and a couple of other strange, abrasive aliens when she called him over. He glanced her way, caught her yellow-eyed gaze, and sighed. Y’skai clapped one hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, friend,” he said. “I will take your cards.”

One of the other aliens - Lance thought his name was Tynhal or something - objected loudly by slamming both his massive fists onto the table. “His cards go back in the deck!” 

“Don’t try to cheat the game,” U’ilani said. She held up a palm for Lance to drop his cards into, shuffling them back into the deck as he left. 

Despite how Khattala intrigued him, Lance would rather stay with the aliens. The card games were weird - he couldn’t win the blackjack-tuna one yet - but Khattala meant training which meant he had no choice but to focus once more on the looming tournament. He approached her and she set off without a word, leaving him to follow at her heels.

Tonight, a sniper was strapped to her back. She didn’t hold a gun for him. Once they passed by the arena doors and the guards there, stepping into the circular hall, she spoke. “Your friend already training?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Lance nodded. “Yep.” They hadn’t even been out of lunch an hour before Avilus had strode over and dragged Keith away. The bitter look on Keith’s face as he’d walked away had been enough to make Lance pity him - not that he’d ever say that. “Keith has to train with Avilus.”

Khattala said, “I do not envy him,” and the conversation lapsed. 

In a few minutes, she had led him to the sort of room Lance expected from this place. Long and empty, with a glittering holographic interface set into the wall by the door. Every inch of it was a shade of grey - walls, floors, ceiling. It was very likely the same one she had taken him to weeks ago. Other than the holo interface, the only thing that stood out was a low steel table holding three separate guns. Khattala headed that way, Lance right beside her.

“Alright,” she said, propping her hands on her hips. “Avilus wants you to get practice in with your usual rifle, as well as a handgun and a sniper.” The rifle laid out wasn’t the one he used in the arena. It was much nicer - cleaned to the point of shining, better paintjob. The bulk of it was black, but there was a gold skull on one side (with six holes for the eyes) and silver streaks down the barrel. She handed it to him and he peered over it. “First, we’ll go through drills with this. Shouldn’t be too hard. You do fine in the matches.” 

He raised his eyes from the gun to her. “You watchin’ me fight, ‘Tala?”

“Yes,” she said, shooting him a frown. “Didn’t I say not to call me that?” 

“You also vetoed Kat, though.” 

“I have a name,” she said. “Just use that.” 

“It’s a nickname,” he said. He tested the weight of the rifle in his grip as he spoke, holding it up to peer through the sights. He turned it on her to see her ears lying back as she tilted her head. Confusion drew her brows close, wrinkled her nose. God, that was cute. 

“What’s the point?” 

Lance grinned, lowering the gun again. “Aw, I give all my friends nicknames,” he said. The fact that most of those ‘nicknames’ were things like buddy and pal didn’t matter. 

One of her pointed ears raised an inch, twitching. “We’re not friends.”

“Sure we are.” 

Khattala opened her mouth, sighed, and snapped it closed again. She shook her head, turning away from him to head to the interface. “Drills,” she said sharply. “Time for drills.”

“Yeah, sure.” The targets were springing to life around the room. He raised the gun to focus on them. He was firing at them as he kept talking. “Can we go back to you watchin’ me fight, though? If I had known that, I would’ve tried harder, impressed you with my skills.”

“I rather liked watching you fall that one time,” she said. “And when you slipped.”

Lance pulled his gaze from the targets to turn back to her. “That’s hurtful,” he said. “I thought you liked me.”

“No idea where you got that.” She waved a hand back at the targets and he refocused. After he shot down a series of quick moving blue circles, she said, “There’s a television in the guard’s quarters. I prefer to watch” -here, what she said didn’t translate, coming across as a series of elongated vowels and soft growls- “but I don’t get to choose all the time. Senior guards like the matches, like to place bets on the slaves. They get rowdy sometimes.” A pause. “You failed that one, by the way.” 

“I know!” He had been so distracted by the failure of the translator that he’d missed three shots in a row. He wanted to ask her about that, about what exactly she had said, but let it go in favor of the drills. They were easy, even when Khattala amped up the speed of the targets. She kept him at it for long enough that his arms were aching from holding the rifle up. 

When she let him take a break, he leaned against the wall beside her to chat. Found out that what she had said earlier had been the name of a show, something so alien the translator in his head didn’t know anything in English to replace it with. “It’s like… It’s about a family of Talians,” she said, gesturing towards herself. “My people. It covers their lives and their hardships and has nothing to do with this stupid arena.” 

Lance raised his eyes at that. “You work here,” he said. 

“Stupid arena,” she repeated. She had her arms crossed over her chest and gripped herself tighter as she continued. “This was not my first choice, you can trust me on that. Lots of places I’d rather be.” 

He tried to get her to say more, but she pushed away from the wall, said it was time for the pistol. 

It was a lightweight gun, painted a gleaming gold and red that reminded Lance instantly of Keith. Khattala arranged a series of still targets around the room for him to test it out and, based on that, put him through a series of close-range drills and combat simulations. Using the pistol was harder than the rifle. He wasn’t used to its size, the speed of its bullets, the range, the weight - nothing. Not even the recoil - it was nearly non-existent, so slight the gun jumped maybe a centimeter with each pull of the trigger. 

She gave him another break and he spent it having her tell him about that show of hers. Apparently, it involved dramatic storylines and romances, tearful reunions with long lost family members, that kind of thing. Lance listened to her talk with a growing smile because -  “Oh my God. You watch a soap opera.” 

That led to him explaining midday cheesy television. She didn’t appreciate having her favorite show equated to terrible acting and sent him right back to training with the pistol. This time, she kept him going for almost an hour straight, simulation after simulation, until Lance was memorizing where the targets paths converged. He shot down two with one bullet and gave her a winning smile that she rolled her eyes at. 

This time, his break didn’t come with conversation but with Khattala showing him how to break down the sniper sitting on the table. It’s pieces connected easily, came apart in her hands with quick twists and the right amount of pressure. “It’s made to be quickly assembled,” she said, “but strong enough to take an enemies head off at long distances.” The gun was a matte black, white highlights painting swirls over its stock. “Avilus had it ordered special. Just for you.” 

He frowned, looking at the gun as she handed it over. “Wait, what? This is for me?”

She nodded. “The sniper and the rifle,” she confirmed. “The handgun is for your partner, Keith.” 

“Uh. Why?” 

Khattala raised her brows, ears laying back. “The tournament,” she said. “These are your new guns.” 

He blinked. In the haze of shooting, the talks with her, he had managed to push that to the back of his mind again. Now the impending dread of it hung over him - so much was unknown about it, and now Avilus had ordered new weapons for them both? 

His face must have shown how uneasy the news made him because Khattala’s expression softened. The usual judgemental, distant look to her eyes faded into one of understanding. “I know it sounds like a lot,” she said, “but these tournaments fly past. They’re just a big show for Zeta to get money from aliens.” 

Lance was schooling his expression back into one of cool indifference, an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What do you know about it?” he asked. “Beyond the whole thing where we fight for days and there’s solo and duo tournaments.” 

Khattala considered him, the sniper in his hands, and sighed. “After you train with that,” she said, “I’ll tell you some things you should know.” She walked from the table, from him, to the interface. Lance watched her go. 

The soft beeps of her inputting commands filled the silence before it stopped. “Avilus,” she continued, quieter than before, “likes to shove his slaves into these things without telling them about it. He thinks the shock value will add to their desire to win, to survive. That they’ll fight harder if they don’t know what’s really going on.” She turned enough to look back at him with a frightening, hateful glare. Her voice was louder now, harder, filled with bitterness and fury. “Avilus is full of shit. You’ll gain nothing from going in there unprepared. I’ll tell you what I can, and you tell Keith. Face this tournament as well as you can, and tell Avilus he can face the barrel of my goddamn gun if he doesn’t like it.”

Lance could only stare at her. 

She slammed her hand down on the interface, causing targets to spring to life down at the end of the hall. A section of the floor was pulling back, a white counter rising a few feet before him. It stopped at just over waist height and she barked at him to get going, to shoot. He tossed another curious glance at her, then settled in. There were supports folded along the barrel that he pulled down, letting the sniper rest on the counter’s surface. 

Sniping was different from the rifle in all the right ways, he thought. He could adjust the range of the scope, pivot the gun on its supports to pinpoint the targets. It was a pity Khattala had said so much; he was still caught up in how she’d said it more than what she had said. He may not know her all that well, but he had never heard her so angry, seen hatred like that. It made him wonder, even as he shot down targets, what she had faced to make her that way. 

And, behind all of that, his curiosity and unease over this strange tournament was growing. 

Eventually, she told him to stop. He had run drills and practices and short simulations and all she said on it was, “You’re passable. Should be fine, especially if you practice with it more.” 

“Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me?”

She nodded. The previous fire in her expression had died down, a wry smile on her face instead. She accepted the gun from him when he handed it over, lying it on the table with the others. They were silent then, Lance watching her, waiting for her to talk and running over conversation starters in his head. Should he say something first? Maybe he should. Just remind her about the tournaments, real easy. 

Before he could, she said, “You have to understand, Lance, that I’ve been here a long time.” She was running a finger down the sniper’s barrel. “I have seen these tournaments countless times, watched slaves die in there from being unprepared. I’ve watched winners of these things break down when the prize wasn’t what they expected.” She sighed, pulling away from the gun and resting her palms flat on the table. When she looked at him, her ears were pointed down and it made him think of a distressed feline. It didn’t match the coldness that was back in her eyes. “There are a few things you should know,” she said. “First: if you were wondering about the solo training, it’s because Avilus will sign you up for solo fights as well as the duo ones.”

He sighed. Looked like Keith had guessed right. 

“The second, though, is that the solo tournament takes place after the duo one has completed.” She held up a hand, spread her fingers. “There’s five quintants of fighting. The first two will be for the duo tournament, the second two for solo fights. The final day is for the main attraction, where the final three contenders of each category fight for victory. The last one remaining fights against Zeta’s current reigning champions.” 

“Woah, hang on,” he cut in. “What champions? What are you talking about?”

Khattala’s ears twitched, brows furrowing. “How do you not know this?” she said. “Right. Well then.” 

There were three champions, she went on to explain. One for the solo fighters and a pair for the duo side. These champions were victors in the arena, fighters who had won more matches than their opponents. “The slave owners keep track of all this,” she said. “They have detailed information, files on all the teams and all the slaves. They track the fights, the winners, the losers.” If a fighter - solo or pair - won enough matches, they were elevated to this ‘champion’ title. A sort of elite status in this shitty place.

“And the winners of the tournaments has to fight these champions?” Lance asked.

Khattala nodded. “If they can’t defeat the champions, they lose. If they beat them, then they win the grand prize.” 

“What’s the prize?”

Her ears drooped again and she averted her gaze. “It isn’t important. You won’t win. No one ever wins their first tournament.” 

He wanted to argue that, but there wasn’t a point. So he motioned for her to continue instead, leaning against the table as she talked. 

She said that the tournament wasn’t just for the arena’s fighters. They opened the arena to anyone who wanted to fight. Any alien passing through could sign up, pay a couple thousand GAC, and in they went. “Zeta doesn’t supply weapons or armor,” she said. “They bring their own.” The aliens would be fighting for the prize money - all the GAC each of them had paid pooled together - and bragging rights. A different prize from slaves, Lance assumed; it wasn’t likely they’d be getting money if they were stuck here. “If no one from the outside wins, Zeta takes all the cash and it’s split between the owner of the entire arena and the slave owners.” 

This whole affair occurred on a bi-monthly bias, earning Zeta enough money to bring in fresh fighters on a regular basis. 

Khattala said, “Outsiders will fight to kill you. Slaves will fight to take you out because they’re all deluded into thinking they win freedom.” She fixed him with a hard gaze, a touch of that fire from earlier leaking through. “Don’t be mistaken, Lance. You won’t win your freedom here.”

He swallowed hard, nodded. 

“Fight hard.”

He nodded again. 

Khattala held his gaze for a few more seconds before nodding herself. She seemed satisfied and turned his attention from him. “Now,” she said, “Avilus should be done with Keith and I need to run him through a couple quick drills with the handgun.” She shoved the pistol into her belt. The sniper, she slung over one shoulder; the rifle in her hands. “You are done. You can leave.” 

“I want to go to Keith,” Lance said.

“No. I’ll send him along when I’m done.” She started towards the door, adding, “You can wait in the lounge if you like. Tell him everything there.” 

She left the room without another word. Her long ears still lay against her head, tips pointed down. Lance watched her walk further down the hall before sighing. Another guard nearby was staring at him pointedly and he set off in the opposite direction from her, back towards the lounge. He really didn’t want to just wait. He didn’t want to explain all this either - she could have waited to tell them together, it would have been easier. Now Lance was supposed to let Keith know all this and he barely understood it himself. The lounge was nearly empty when he arrived and he took a seat on a couch with a huff of breath, turning to watch the door.

Whatever happened in the next few days, he knew this tournament was going to wear him out worse than anything else so far. Wear them both out. He watched a pair off aliens pass by, wondered vaguely how they’d fair, and felt a strong ache to return to the Castle. To get the hell out of here before anything could get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *names alien y'skai*  
> me: his name is Ypsilanti. (:
> 
> next chpt:  
> \- avilus has a gift  
> \- the tournament unfolds  
> \- someone is injured


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> space gays to the tune of space jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a week late. had a health issue to work through but i'm all good now. 
> 
>  
> 
> this got gayer than it was supposed to be all the blame is on keith 
> 
> also, lance has picked up on nothing through all of this mess ok just. keep that in mind. nothing. 
> 
> ps this is nearly 17k words bye

The first day of the tournament was hectic. It began with the guards throwing open the barracks door and bellowing for everyone to get up. Three of them were walking through the room, repeating the order until they all either stood by their beds or at least sat up. From there, eight of them were pulled out to get ready - Lance and Keith included - and the others were told to get into the cafeteria.

Outside the barracks, a pair of guards were going to the other rooms down the hall, unlocking doors and ducking inside. Keith gave them a passing glance before the guard corralling him and Lance shoved them towards the stairs. They were taken to the same training room as always, dropped off with an order to get into their armor.

As soon as the door shut behind the guards, Lance said, “Don’t we even get food first?” with a badly stifled yawn. He rubbed at his face, staring at the crate at their feet.

Keith knelt down to unlock it, starting to pull the armor out piece by piece. His own armor was stacked on the left side, Lance’s on the right - an easy system to prevent any confusion. “Get your armor on,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

Lance was still pouting at the door. “I just want breakfast,” he sighed.

“Lance.”

With an overdramatic groan, Lance turned, bending down to retrieve his own armor. He kept complaining as they faced away from one another to strip down and don the flightsuits. Keith wanted to tell him to shut up, but he didn’t want to waste his energy on words. He hadn’t woken up yet and needed to focus on pulling the armor on.

Really, he couldn’t argue with Lance anyway. Not when his own stomach was growling as he fastened the chest piece on.

Once their armor was on, Lance took a seat on the crate. His helmet sat in his lap and he let out a loud yawn. Keith frowned at him; his helmet was tucked under one arm and he refused to give in and yawn like his body wanted. He stood by the crate, not responding as Lance picked up his chatter about food.

It couldn’t have been two minutes later when the door slid open again, letting Avilus in. By then, Lance had fallen silent - but as Avilus approached and the guards behind him became visible, he started up again. Avilus had started a greeting, a simple good morning, and Lance ran right over him. “Oh! Is that our breakfast? Thank quiznack, I’m starving.”

Avilus let his greeting trail off with a grunt.

The guards carried a tray each, crappy alien food and a cup of water on each one. Lance took one with a flash of a brilliant grin; Keith took a seat beside him, setting his helmet down on the floor before taking the other tray. He balanced the tray on his knees, taking a swallow of water before digging into his food. Lance’s helmet had hit the floor with a dull thump the second he had the tray.  

While they ate, the guards backed out of the room and Avilus started talking. “Your fight is early today, boys,” he said. “And it isn’t your only one today either.”

Over their breakfast, Lance and Keith exchanged a wary look.

“There’s no need to worry about it.”

Keith wasn’t worried. After being taught - and he was using that term loosely - how to use a gun, Lance had told him everything he’d learned from the pink-skinned guard. A five day tournament that they would fight in, both as partners and solo. He could handle that, easy.

He was on edge, though. Hadn’t gotten much sleep, having stared at the bunk above him and turned the information over in his mind while Lance slept soundly beside him. Khattala may have given Lance a good idea of what to expect, but the amount of unknowns was plaguing Keith, pulling at him, picking holes in his mind until he wanted to scream.

Which was why he now sat here with Avilus’s smug smile directed at them and felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to get this over with.

“You may have noticed things are a bit different this morning,” Avilus was saying. “Don’t you worry, boys, it’ll all make sense before too long.” His smile grew into a vicious grin and Keith turned his eyes back to his food. “For now, just understand that the matches you have today should be easy. You should win. Well… most of them should be easy.”

Beside Keith, Lance was taking large mouthfuls of food. Keith suspected he was doing it to stop himself from saying anything.

The door slid open again. Keith glanced up to watch a guard tug in another crate. As they let go of it and made to stand by the door, he noticed the flash of pink skin at their exposed neck. He blinked, ignoring Avilus going on about how they should win in favor of wondering how many pink aliens were here. The only one he’d ever seen was Khattala - he’d just never seen her actually wear a helmet with her guard armor.

Avilus cleared his throat, drawing Keith’s attention again. “If you’re done eating, the guard will take your trays.” He waved one hand at the door and, after a moment, Khattala walked forward, retrieving the items. Avilus patted her on the shoulder, ignoring the way her head snapped to him. “Thank you. You can leave now.”

Keith watched her leave, fingers curling into fists over his knees. Something about how she acted bothered him. How quiet she was, how she had visibly flinched from one touch - but maybe that was just this day again, the unease building in his gut. He knew nothing about her. Had to be nerves. He dismissed it entirely to turn his focus onto Lance.

Without the food to distract him, Lance was tapping the fingers of one hand against his knee. Somehow, at the same time, he was bouncing that same leg. He stared at the crate at the wall, mouth in a thin line. And while Keith didn’t know the alien guard, he knew Lance and he knew that Lance was stressed about this whole thing. He thought he should try to calm Lance down a bit.

Avilus was walking over to the second crate. He said, “Your weapons are in here,” and turned to face it, reaching down to unlock it.

Keith was only half listening, his eyes on Lance. He wanted to comfort Lance, help him somehow - but then Avilus spoke again.

“I have one more thing for you two.” He drew both their eyes with that, standing in front of them with that irritating smug smile. In one hand, he held a very, very familiar blade. Part of it was covered up, one end of the wrapping coming undone in Avilus’s massive fist. “This,” he said, lifting the blade, “is a surprise gift for you.” The blade lay flat in his palm. He twisted his fingers, holding it between two to let it swing lazily in the open air. Keith followed it with wide eyes.

He almost didn’t believe what he was seeing.

Avilus said, “Win, and you get this.”

“That’s mine,” Keith said immediately. He was on his feet without thinking, stepping forward, hand outstretched. That knife - he thought that maybe he had lost it on the planet weeks ago, or that the aliens who captured them had sold it, or something. He never expected to see it with Avilus. Soft curls of anger were lighting in his gut as he watching Avilus once more take the knife into his fist.

Avilus took a large step back. “Is it now?” His eyes spoke of challenge, and Keith leapt to it.

He glared, teeth bared. Something akin to a snarl worked out of his throat. “Give it back.” The slow fire was quickly building to a roar - that was _his knife_ , his only link to his father out here, to whatever small amount of Galra blood ran through his veins.

Beside him, Lance hissed his name and he ignored it.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Avilus said. “Win, and you’ll have it.”

To hell with that. Keith dove forward, snagging Avilus’s wrist with one hand and the hilt of his blade with the other. If Avilus wouldn’t give it back, he’d take it himself.

Except Avilus merely raised his other hand, set it on Keith’s shoulder, and shoved him hard. The look he gave Keith was full of mockery. “Use that anger,” he said, shoving Keith back when he tried to rush him again. “Turn it on your enemies today and show me you mean to win.”

Keith’s respond was a growl of a curse, and a lunge that was stopped only by hands suddenly gripping both his arms. He yanked free, throwing his elbow back and only meeting the resistance of armor. It clicked then that that was Lance behind him, still with one arm tight on Keith’s arm. He threw a glance backward, his glare meeting Lance’s eyes, and by the time he turned to Avilus again, the alien was fastening Keith’s blade to his belt.

“Have a good time today, boys,” Avilus said. “Get your weapons. You fight in five.” He left, the door sliding shut behind him.

In the quiet of the training room, Keith could only hear his own thundering heart. Like the beat of it was the rhythm of his fury. He pulled away from Lance with a violent motion, whirling on the other boy. “Why’d you stop me? He has my knife!”

“Keith.”

“My knife,” Keith repeated.

Dimly, he was aware that Lance looked tired. His brows were drawn tight, brow furrowed. It paled in comparison to Keith’s anger, to the audacity of Avilus to hold his own knife against him like this.

Lance said, “Dude. He’s, like, eight feet tall. And huge.”

“What’s your point?”

“He could seriously hurt you,” Lance said.

Keith scoffed. His hands had been curled into fists since Avilus shoved him back and he relaxed them just to cross his arms over his chest. He glared at Lance since Avilus wasn’t here, tried to send all his anger in Lance’s direction. “He doesn’t get to carry my blade like that,” he said. “He shouldn’t even touch it. It’s not his!”

Lance frowned at him, sighed, and turned away. “Yeah,” he said. “Whatever you say.” He picked his helmet up and pulled it on as he walked toward the chest of their weaponry. Keith tracked his every movement with his eyes. “Just come get your weapons so we can get this over with.”

He stalked over, pushing Lance out the of the way. “Don’t you even care?” he said. The sword in the crate was a shining, glittering silver. The hilt was black and golden designs painted up the blade of it. It fit perfectly in his hand, near perfect balance in every swing. It was basically shit when he knew the Mamora blade was in this damn arena.

Lance was muttering in Spanish as he stood by Keith. “Of course I do. There’s just not much you can do about it right now - “

Keith had reached for the sword but he froze to send another glare at Lance.

One that was met by Lance’s own fierce stare. “You can’t,” he said. “Sorry to tell you, bud, but you can’t take on Avilus and win.”

Keith took a breath, ready to tell Lance exactly how stupid what he was saying was.

“And don’t take your anger out on me,” Lance continued. He slid a sniper over one shoulder, tearing his gaze from Keith to pick up the rifle from the crate. “I didn’t do shit to you but stop Avilus from beating you senseless.”

“You could have helped - “

“Fuck off, Keith,” Lance said. With both his weapons, he strode away from the crate to wait by the door. “Get your stupid sword. And don’t fuck this up today. Maybe try to control your anger instead of killing everyone you see.”

Keith snatched the sword out. His glare had faded to a frown; he was still angry, still unbelievably pissed. “Maybe I’ll kill you,” he said. “Save anyone else the trouble.”

Lance didn’t respond, other than to give Keith a momentary glare. Keith ignored it, retrieving his helmet from the floor. He stood by the crate while they waited for the guards, not wanting to talk to Lance.

Neither of them said a word until the arena was opening up in front of them. “Try not to kill them,” Lance said. He was already moving to climb the nearby machinery, his usual method of ascending to the vents above.

“I know what to do.” Keith sent a glare at his back as Lance climbed. The sword was heavy in his hand and he ached to swing it at something, let his frustration and anger flow out.

Lance didn’t respond. He reached the top of the machine and jumped, jetpack kicking in to take him up. Gunfire pinged off the machinery, off the armor on his legs. Keith was already moving forward, jogging between rocks, scanning the area for their enemies. He spotted them moments before Lance told him, already moving forward. The pair they were fighting were large, but moved in a way that showed they knew nothing about the arena. One of them was turning their head, the other held a gun to their helmet and aimed upward - trying to find Lance.

That was Keith’s target. He darted out from the cover while their back was turned, skidding around the other to strike low at the back of their knees.

Up close, it was obvious that they weren’t from Zeta. The armor, for one, was fashioned out of expensive metals and painted with bright decals. The fact that Keith had managed to land such a hit while one of them watched spoke even louder than the colorful armor.

The one he attacked had whirled around, gun turning to Keith. He was ducking around them as heavy gunfire slammed into the other, knocked them back hard. While Lance dealt with that one, Keith spun around his target, striking with as much strength as he could, filling each swing of his sword with his anger.

The fight was easy, over far too quick for his liking. The two aliens, wherever they had come from, were escorted off by a pair of guards. Keith and Lance walked out on their own, Lance two steps ahead of him. Keith followed him, taking steady breaths. A large part of his anger had drained away even with a short fight. The adrenaline and fury pumping through him had slowed, letting his heart rate calm down and his head clear just enough to understand that he shouldn’t have snapped at Lance like he had. Lance had been right, after all - there wasn’t much he could do about the blade right now.

It was too late to dwell on it, though. The instant Avilus showed himself, he took the weapons, told them to stay in armor, and then Lance stalked off alone. From just outside the arena door, Keith could see him turn into the lounge.

Avilus set a hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the arena. “Good job out there,” he said. Hearing him stroked the fire still in Keith - it was quieter, but dealing with Avilus too long would piss him off all over again. “You and your boy there have three more fights today. Fight like that in each one, and that knife will be yours again.”

Keith scowled. “It’s always been mine,” he said.

Avilus grinned at him. “Of course. Now, move along. Other people have to fight and you’re blocking the door.” He pushed Keith forward, causing him to stumble a few steps. “I’ll see you two in a varga.”

“Whatever,” Keith muttered. He headed away from Avilus, from the arena, and tried not to think about his blade hanging at the side of that asshole alien. At the lounge, he paused, glancing through the door. A lot of aliens were inside, sitting around the tables or couches, standing along walls. Almost all of them wore armor of various shades, most often the colors Keith had come to associate with Zeta: Black with golden highlights. He skipped over each of them until he managed to pinpoint Lance in the mix.

Lance, standing at a table, hands laid flat on it. His helmet was off, his brown hair a mess. At the table sat those twins he had befriended, Y’skai and U’ilani, each wearing an armor set that seemed to be made to intimidate. Y’skai’s helmet added a fan of sharp looking feathers around the back of his skull, large horn-like shapes rising over where his ears were beneath it. A collar of bright red feathers encircled the top of his chest piece. U’ilani wore a matching set, minus the feathers and horns along her helmet.

Whatever they were talking about, Y’skai was loud, his booming voice mixing with the others.

Lance looked annoyed.

For a moment, Keith stalled by the door. He wasn’t sure if he should go in there - those two weren’t his friends to begin with, and Lance was angry with him. It was always an option to go downstairs, maybe hang around the kitchen or see who was left in the barracks. He watched Lance’s lips quirk into a smile and immediately stepped into the room. At least in here, he reasoned, he’d know someone.

As he moved through the aliens, he picked up on what Y’skai was saying. “First timers always get it easy,” he was saying, “at least at first. Our first tournament, U’ilani and I faced a pair of young Galra. No idea where they came from, but they clearly had no training for this type of thing.”

“Galra?” Lance now. Keith moved faster as he listened, shoving his way between a noisy crowd. “How did you manage to find untrained Galra? Every one we’ve fought is a part of the Empire and crazy.”

U’ilani answered him, but her voice was softer. Keith lost half of it as an alien nearby laughed, only caught the rest because he had finally gotten to their table. “ - ready for the Empire, maybe. It was a few decaphoebs ago. I forget the details.” Through her helmet, her eyes glittered as four sparks of green. “Hello, Keith.”

He raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, glancing from her to Lance. He had come to stand by Lance out of habit, putting himself close enough to feel Lance’s arm brush against his own. “Hey…”

The smile on Lance’s face was gone. He didn’t seem angry, though, just wary. Guarded, almost. “Did you hear that?” he asked, nodding toward U’ilani. At Keith’s nod, he huffed a breath. “Can’t believe it.” He slid one hand off the table to rest at his hip, gaze turning back to the twins. “You two got to face untrained Galra. Fresh meat! Not ready for the Empire!” He paused, then added, “Wish I could face untrained Galra. Hate the ones we fight.”

Keith looked between the twins, then at the table. All this Galra talk was only reminding him of himself, and that was making him think of the knife again.

U’ilani asked, “Exactly how is it you two have fought so many Galra?”

“Lance talks as if these battles were common,” Y’skai said.

At that, both of them exchanged a look. Lance’s eyes were wide. They hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t planned anything out. It was an unspoken agreement not to mention Voltron - Keith felt it was smarter that way. There was no telling what anyone here thought about Voltron or the Galra Empire, what sides they may have fallen on, allegiances. Besides that, nothing mattered outside of the arena anyway.

He hadn’t thought anyone would ask, even in a way like this.

Lance was floundering for a response. “Oh, we, uh… We fought them because… We were, uhm…”

“Rebels.”

Five sets of eyes locked onto him. Keith looked away from the twins’ two sets, into Lance’s deep blue eyes instead. “We were rebels,” he repeated. Hoped Lance would just roll with it, not ask where he came up with it. Then he’d have to explain the sudden memory of Lance tied to a tree on an alien moon, of a pair of scavengers who claimed to be rebel fighters.

“Right,” Lance said with a nod. He turned to the twins again, a smile crossing his face. “We were… rebels.”

Y’skai tilted his head, fingers of his lower hand drumming on the table.

Keith was starting to think he should be worried about the pair of them asking questions.

And then Lance heaved a sigh, the smile melting from his face. He nudged Keith with his elbow, saying, “Jeez, man. Here I was trying to find a good lie and you just spit it out. Thought we were gonna keep it a secret!”

Keith stared at him.

“Made me sound like an idiot,” Lance continued. “Standing there stuttering. Killing my bad boy image here.” His gaze drifted back to Keith and he winked.

He didn’t get the wink. Was it necessary? Was Lance trying to convey something here? Keith frowned at him and could only say, “What image? What are you talking about?”

Lance scoffed, raising his hand to wave at himself. “Uh, hello? Me! Sharpshooter! Badass! Can hit an enemy from one hundred yards away, one hundred percent of the time.”

“Is… is that a bad boy image?” It really didn’t sound like one. “You’re just a good shot.”

For a brief moment, Lance’s eyes widened. An easy smile painted over his face. “Aw, thanks, buddy.” He leaned down close to add, “Now tell me I’m badass. I’m tryin’ to look cool for the aliens.”

Keith hated how much he liked Lance’s smile because right now, he didn’t want to deal with what that implied. With his own weird, convoluted feelings. There was a tournament happening. He had three more fights lined up today. An alien had his Mamora blade. Too much was going on to deal with this. But Lance smiled and leaned in close and Keith’s heart skipped a beat. He stared at Lance and felt the heat along his neck, grateful for the helmet hiding most of it from sight.

At the table, the aliens emitted a sharp sound, a trill that Lance had said was them laughing. Keith tore his eyes from Lance to look their way. U’ilani had her chin in one of her lower hands. “You two are cute,” she said.

Y’skai said, “You remind me of our cousin and his bonded.”

Despite himself, Keith ground out, “I’m not cute.”

Beside him, Lance had draped an arm over his shoulders. “Cute’s practically the opposite of badass,” he said. “Keith, am I cute?”

Keith was blushing, he could feel it. He slapped a hand to his face, squeezing his fingers under the visor by his nose to try and hide as much of the redness as possible. “You’re not cute,” he muttered. Not in his opinion, anyway. Puppies were cute. Dogs and cats. Sometimes Pidge was, when she fell asleep in strange positions around the Castle. Lance was more than that - attractive and bright, warm with brilliant smiles. And on some days, Lance was _hot_ and Keith would catch himself staring and have to excuse himself from the room.

There was too much happening for this to be thrown in too. Keith did not want to be thinking about Lance like this when he had to fight in an hour.

At least Lance was fine with his answer. “Right, see there?” he said to the twins. “I’m not cute.” And then he paused, his eyes seeking Keith’s again. He leaned back in, pressing their sides together, seemingly oblivious to the flush on Keith’s face. “Wait, that wasn’t an insult, right?”

Keith stared at him. Seconds ticked by and Lance squinted at him, tilting his head like he was going to peer into his head and dig the answers out. “I… I gotta go,” Keith said in a rush, ducking out from under Lance’s arm.

Lance’s eyes widened. “What? Where?”

“Need a drink,” Keith said. He spun on his heels, diving back into the crowd of aliens and ignoring Lance calling after him. He was going get some water from the cafeteria, take the time to cool down and clear his head.

Lance’s voice, raised over the chatter of nearby aliens: “At least bring me one too?”

Keith paused for a moment, then headed forward. Right. He’d take a second then, to drink some, then come back to give Lance some water. And he’d take his time walking back, make the trip just long enough to shove all these messy feelings away again. Bury them back and ignore them.

✦✦✦✦✦

Their second fight went just as well as the first - simple, quick. Another pair of fighters from outside Zeta, aliens that were unprepared for a sniper and Keith’s ferocity up close. Lance had one pinned down before Keith had even struck. The entire fight couldn’t have taken but five minutes, and then they let themselves out of the arena.

Once again, Avilus stood outside. He said, “Your next fight is in three vargas. Get some food. Rest up. The next one won’t be this simple.”

Keith walked away from him with Lance beside him. As great as food sounded, he wasn’t hungry enough to bother just yet. When he turned into the lounge again, Lance followed, pulling Keith down onto the first empty couch they passed. Aliens still filled the room, their voices mixing into a steady rise and fall of indecipherable noise - honestly, Keith wouldn’t have been surprised if the translator had just given up in the wake of it all.

He ignored all of them to focus on Lance as the boy sighed beside him. He watched Lance tug his helmet off and, after a moment, reached off to do the same. The instant he had the helmet in his lap, he glanced over to catch the bright smile on Lance’s face, the burst of amusement glowing in his eyes.

Keith stared. His heart surged in his chest.

Lance snickered, slapping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle it.

“What is it?” Keith asked.

He dropped the hand, hitting Keith all over again with that damn brilliant smile. “Your hair,” Lance said, laughter bubbling out of him, “is a disaster. Worst helmet hair I’ve ever seen.” At Keith’s indignant noise, he laughed again, gesturing at Keith. “I wish I had my phone. Definitely need photos of you like this. Oh my God, dude.”

Keith had his hands in his hair, trying to fix it somehow. He frowned as he sat there, catching a tangle with his fingers and listening to the unfairly amazing sound of Lance’s laughter. It was harder to untangle his hair and rid it of whatever mess it was in while wearing the armor. Paladin flightsuits were not made for this kind of thing and he couldn’t feel anything but the tangles he found.

After a few seconds, Lance had calmed down. He was watching Keith with a small smile on his face and Keith glowered at him. Only real issue with Lance’s hair was a few locks that stuck in odd directions. And unlike the apparent hilarious disaster that was Keith right now, it didn’t make Lance look worse. Somehow, he was still attractive.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re doing much,” Lance said. He moved closer, the couch dipping as he settled once more. The armor of his thigh pushed against Keith’s as he moved. His eyes were focused on Keith’s hair, but he glanced down to catch Keith’s eyes and flash a cocky grin. “I got it, man. No worries.”

“What?” Before he could move, Lance grasped his wrists, tugging his hands free of his hair. Keith’s frown deepened. “Lance - “

“Let me fix it,” Lance said. He let Keith go and, without waiting for a response, pushed his hands into Keith’s hair.

Keith tensed at the first touch, his eyes wide. He could feel Lance’s fingers carding through his hair, smoothing it down in places, catching on the very tangles he had found seconds before. Heat was building on his cheeks and he was fairly certain he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Just ‘cause you have a terrible haircut,” Lance was saying, “doesn’t mean it should look this bad. I’m suffering just looking at it as it is normally.” He pulled at a stubborn knot, fingers of one hand scratching against Keith’s scalp as he worked it lose. “And you really weren’t helping. Guess it’s hard when you can’t see it, huh?”

The tug came free with a sharp pull that made Keith jerk, his heart stuttering in his chest. His hands curled over the armor on his knees, his eyes still locked on Lance’s face and the concentration there. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had done this sort of thing. Keith took care of himself, and that included detangling bad helmet hair. He managed to say, “I could’ve just… gone to the bathroom. Where there’s mirrors.”

Lance huffed a quiet laugh. He had pulled the last knot free, was only running his fingers through it now. “I think what you’re supposed to say is ‘why, thank you, Lance, for taking the time to fix my horrible mullet.’ And you’re welcome.”

For some reason, Lance moved his hands to Keith’s bangs, shoving them up. His smile was dazzling. “Hey, look! You do have a face under all that.” The smile dimmed just a bit, one of Lance’s hands falling to Keith’s shoulder. “Wow, you’re red. You okay?”

Keith groaned, pulling away from him. He put his face in hands, cursing himself for enjoying the feeling of someone combing through his hair. Specifically Lance’s fingers against his scalp, tugging gently, combing the bangs out of his eyes.

Lance poked at his shoulder. “Uh, Keith?”

“Shut up,” he said, muffled by his palms.

Keith was going to stomp his feelings into pieces if this kept up. Lance sighed beside him but otherwise, he was quiet. He still sat too close, made no effort to move. Keith’s heartbeat was too loud in his ears as he fought to will the flush from his face.

Lance said, “You’re a weird guy, y’know that?”

Slowly, Keith raised his head from his hands. The heat was cooling from his skin so he was probably (hopefully) a lot less red than before. He eyed Lance through the hair now falling over his face. “What?”

“Hey, just an observation,” Lance said. He sat with one arm over the back of the couch behind Keith, eyes on him. “It’s cool. I’m getting used to it.”

That explained nothing and Keith’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Getting used to what?”

Lance simply gestured at him, a ghost of a smile lighting on his face. “Ah, you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

At least talking was calming him down. It was too hard to be embarrassed while he was trying to understand what Lance meant.

But then Lance was laughing quietly, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. His gaze slid off Keith to the ceiling as his smile died and the laughter with it. Keith straightened up, leaning back against the couch, against Lance’s arm still lying there. He knew those signs by now - whatever Lance was thinking, it made him nervous. Or maybe telling Keith made him nervous. Whichever one it was, Keith was curious. He said, “What are you getting used to?”

When Lance looked back at Keith, he didn’t seem nervous at all. “You.”

Something in Keith’s stomach flipped. “I - What?”

“We didn’t talk much on the Castle,” Lance said. He dropped his gaze between them as he spoke. “But you’re all I have here, and… I don’t know, man. You’re not as much of an asshole as I thought you were.”

“Wow. Thanks, Lance. I’m flattered.”

The arm behind him moved, Lance’s hand settling around his shoulders and shaking him. “Hush,” he said, eyes snapping up again. He smirked and Keith’s stupid feelings were making themselves known again, soft curls of warmth moving through his chest. “You’re not so bad,” Lance said. “Little weird, too aggressive, totally awkward.”

Those weren’t compliments but Keith was smiling anyway. “I dunno,” he said. “I thought we were starting to get along before this.”

“Oh, sure.” Lance’s hand rested on his bicep, underneath the piece of armor on his shoulder. Keith felt the pressure but the warmth of it was prevented by the suits. “But I can get along with basically anyone.” He grinned for a moment and ran his free hand through his hair. “I am irresistibly charming and gorgeous.”

Keith choked back a laugh. “Sure you are,” he said.

“I am!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Lance scoffed, moving to face Keith. His arm fell from Keith’s shoulder so he could set both hands on Keith’s neck and look him dead in the eye. “Look here, samurai,” he said, a challenge and teasing in his words. “Someday, you’ll believe me ‘cause, someday, I’ll charm even you.”

That cocky smirk was back on Lance’s face and Keith was struck by the strong urge to lean in, close the distance between them, and kiss it off his face. His breath caught in his throat, warmth exploded through his veins and along his neck and ears. For a brief moment, all Keith could do was stare because now he was imagining it.

What was wrong with him today? He supposed it wasn’t his fault when Lance kept shoving into his personal space, but he was burying these feelings, dammit.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I’d like to see you try, sharpshooter.”

Lance’s eyes widened briefly and then he pulled back, laughing.  “Wasn’t expecting that from you,” he said.

Keith felt like slapping himself. He smiled instead, leaning back a bit to put space between them. He crossed his arms, tearing his eyes from Lance. Tried to pretend the thought of kissing Lance wasn’t still drifting through his head.

 ✦✦✦✦✦

Their last two fights that day were exhausting - the third pair was from Zeta, the final opponents were outsiders. All of them were fierce and attacked Keith with clear intent to maim him. Lance may have been watching through a scope, but he could see the viciousness behind each attack. He kept his sniper on whatever alien was after Keith, constantly checking on the other one. In their last fight, late in the night, one of them was firing a crossbow at Lance and every time a bolt hit the vents, it sparked before exploding in a small fireball. Kept Lance moving quick - fire at Keith’s attacker, move to another spot before a crossbow bolt lit his feet on fire.

So, yeah. Exhausting.

At least they won both fights. After the last one, Avilus let them go for the night. They were free from the usual nightly training, Avilus said, but would have to be up early for extra solo training before their scheduled fights. That should have been a relief.

The problem was that, without a distraction, Lance was left to think about what had happened earlier. About Keith next to him on a ratty couch. About how Keith apparently wanted to kiss him. Maybe. Possibly. Lance had already thought about this during their breaks, and he honestly didn’t know what to make of it.

He could be wrong, but…

Right now, they were changing. Lance paused in the middle of taking off the flightsuit to glance behind him. Keith’s suit hung around his hips already, and Lance gave his pale back a critical stare for a few seconds before turning around to frown at the ceiling.

He was certain that Keith’s gaze had dropped from his eyes to his mouth. Absolutely positive. And he only knew of one reason for anyone to do that.

Lance groaned, running his hands over his face. “Fuck.”

From behind him, Keith said, “Uh… Lance? Are you okay?”

He could still see Keith’s eyes staring him down - lingering on his mouth. What the fuck?

“ ‘M fine,” Lance said, voice muffled by his hands. “Just tired.” Technically, not a lie. His legs ached from running and leaping across vents; his arms and shoulders ached from holding the guns up. He needed to lay down and he knew it, but he doubt he’d sleep with this shit running on loop through his head.

He followed Keith from the training room, each of them clad in their usual bland, dark clothes. In the stairway, Keith brought up a late dinner and Lance had to pretend he wasn’t sneaking suspicious glances the entire time they walked.

“I’m starving,” Keith said. “You coming?”

Lance paused. He looked at Keith, saw Keith looking back at him, and immediately looked back in front of him. “Uh, no. We kind of stink, dude. Shower first, then dinner.”

“I want food,” Keith said.

Lance snuck another glance to see Keith frowning, pulling at the bottom of his shirt.

“Do I really stink?” he asked.

“Yeah.” It’d be hard for either of them not to reek by now. The flightsuit had practically stuck to Lance’s skin after being on all day and Keith was probably worse off. “You move more than I do during these fights. You smell horrible.”

“I guess you’re right.” Keith sighed, and then his dark eyes were shifting over Lance’s face.

And Lance, in a spectacular show of grace, tripped down the last three stairs. Not his fault, really. He caught himself before he hit the floor face first by slamming back palms down, which stung. “Ow,” he muttered, pushing himself back up.

Keith was smirking at him. “Nice. How do you stay on those vents again?”

“Shut up,” Lance said, glaring at him. “This is your fault.”

“What?” The smirk fell from Keith’s face in an instant, his own glare forming to match Lance’s own. “How?”

Because Lance had been so sure the other boy would glance at his lips again that he’d been unable to do anything but stare. His heart had skidded to a stop, his chest seized, and then Lance had lost his footing. All Keith’s fault. “Just is,” he said, turning from Keith to head for the door. “Doesn’t matter how.”

Keith’s footsteps followed him. “You’re so full of shit,” he said.

They ended up heading to the showers together, new clothes from the barracks in their arms. Lance spent the entire time standing under warm water, all too aware that Keith was in the stall on his left. The arena’s soap was unscented and too rough on his skin for his liking. It was all they had, though, so Lance rubbed it along his arms and wondered if maybe he was reading too much into this.

Maybe Keith had just averted his gaze. He had been pretty red then so maybe he just needed a moment to get himself together.

Or maybe Lance had seen it wrong.

Or was remembering it wrong.

At dinner, Lance sat beside Keith and let silence sit with them. There was barely anyone in the cafeteria, and he was glad that Keith was never one for much idle chatter. He wasn’t sure he could carry on a normal conversation with the guy right now. As they took their trays back up, Lance sighed so deeply that Keith looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You must be really tired,” Keith commented. “I don’t even know the last time you were this quiet.”

Lance blinked. “Yep. That’s me. Suuuper tired.” He gave Keith a grin that had no life to it whatsoever and the other boy smiled back.

“Yeah.” Keith was quiet as they passed the trays to the alien behind the counter. He didn’t speak again until they had reached the cafeteria door. “Don’t know about you, but I’m gonna pass out as soon as I lay down.”

Lance didn’t blame him. He answered with a small noise, falling in step behind Keith as they moved through the barracks to their bunks. He climbed up into his bed without a glance at Keith - there was no way he’d be able to sleep next to the other boy tonight. Didn’t matter that his arms protested as he pulled himself up. Sleeping next to Keith meant laying next to someone who might want to kiss him and that would keep him up all night. His own bed was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the soft sounds of Keith’s breathing as he slept, or wake up with his arms around Keith, or anything like that.

Too bad it didn’t make it any easier for him to get to sleep. Lance lay beneath two blankets, stared at the darkness overshadowing the wall before him, and let his thoughts run wild. It was all Keith, memories from the Castle and Voltron as well as here at the arena - fighting with Keith, taunting Keith. That stupid smug smile of his, and the softer one he sometimes wore. Even a vague memory of waking up on a strange ship, drugs pumping through him, his arm in a sling, and Keith standing there.

An even more distant memory sparked on the heels of that. One filled with a shattered crystal and a defeated Galra, where Lance had barely been awake and Keith was looking at him with those ridiculous dark eyes of his.

Lance sighed, curling around himself, blankets clutched in his hands.

Keith was his friend. The arena had shaken any doubts of that from Lance’s mind, but he wasn’t sure if it would stay that way when they left. If they’d still get along like this, if he could still find Keith closeby for company or if he’d vanish somewhere into the Castle’s many rooms. If they’d even still talk to one another or if everything would revert back to how it was and they would argue and fight and drive the others insane.

He hoped he was wrong about earlier, that Keith didn’t want to kiss him. If he did, it’d ruin the small friendship they had managed to hold together. It wouldn’t matter what happened on the Castle because things would have changed already.

The last thing he managed to think before exhaustion finally pulled him under was that it’d be better if Keith wasn’t interested in him. There were lots of people better suited for Keith, people that were better than Lance could ever be.

✦✦✦✦✦

Half an hour into his solo training session and Lance was regretting not sleeping earlier.

He had also, conveniently, totally forgotten what had kept him up in the first place. No lingering thoughts about Keith and absolutely zero moments where he wondered if he’d seen what he thought he had.

Just like his previous solo training, Khattala was with him. She had been the one to wake both Lance and Keith up, looking none too happy about being up this early when she did. She had escorted them to the cafeteria for a quick breakfast, told Keith he was training with someone called Rinoc, and then Lance had followed her upstairs.

Before he left the cafeteria, he’d looked back at Keith. Just a quick glance - and then his eyes found Keith’s and Lance had tripped over his feet leaving the room. He hadn’t expected Keith to be watching him.

Now Lance leaned half his body weight on a counter in the firing range, sniper in his hands. It was balanced on the counter and he shouldn’t be pushing on it like he was; putting too much weight against the gun made its support slide over the counters’ surface, had him missing shots he should have landed. He was so tired that he couldn’t help himself.

The targets Khattala had called up for him were moving steadily before him and he knew he could hit them. He had hit more difficult targets just yesterday. Living targets who moved unpredictably and attacked Keith -

A brief flash of one of the aliens bearing down on Keith changed quickly into Keith’s dark eyes, somehow grey and dark blue and purple all at once, peering at Lance through the hair in his face.

Lance missed the shot and groaned, setting his head against the scope of the rifle.

At the door, Khattala scoffed. “What is with you today?” she said. Footsteps approached him and Lance raised his head to see her stopping beside him. “You’re terrible.”

He frowned. “I’m tired.”

For a beat, Khattala only stared. Her ears twitched, then she sighed. “Right.” She crossed her arms over the chest plate of her armor. “Course you are.” She was staring out at the targets still drifting across the room. “I watched the fights yesterday. Well - yours and Keith’s, at least. Few of the others.” Her eyes flicked back to him, scrutinizing him. “I can believe you’re tired. Four fights in a day is a lot, but two were easy and you were hitting all kinds of shots in all four matches. You may be tired, but not so much that you’re missing the easiest mode I could give you.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, “but the last two were hard!”

Khattala raised her eyebrows.

“I got shot at with an exploding crossbow!”

She smirked.

Lance’s frown deepened and he turned back to shooting. He pinged a shot against a target and it disappeared. Khattala’s constant presence was forcing him to concentrate. “Didn’t sleep well,” he muttered between shots. As soon as he said it, a slice of anxiety sparked to life. What if she asked why? He didn’t exactly have an excuse ready and there was no way in hell he would ever mention Keith and his stupid eyes and what actually kept him up.

Thankfully, all Khattala said was, “Now that I believe.” She patted him on the shoulder once before stepping away. “Get back to shooting.” Her steps took her away from him. “To be honest, Lance, I’d let you go early but there’s cameras everywhere in here. Avilus’ll kill me if he sees that footage”

He cast a glance over his shoulder at her, staring. “Wait, seriously?”

Khattala stood by the door again, arms crossed. “Yeah. No audio, though.” When Lance didn’t look away, she sighed and continued. “Look, every training room in this place is equipped with a camera. There’s two in the lounge, four in the cafeteria and the kitchens, inside every room a slave stays in. The only place they aren’t in is the bathrooms.”

Lance blinked, turning back to the gun slowly. It wasn’t surprising news, but it felt constricting, in a way. Like the concept of being held here against his will, being a slave, was even harder to ignore. He’d been ignoring it this whole time but someone in here had eyes on him, on Keith, at nearly all times of the day.

He hated this place so much.

With a deep breathe, he made himself focus, shooting targets until his eyes hurt from tracking them. Before he left the room, Khattala told him to expect more difficult fights today. She said, “First day just essentially weeds out the less serious ones. You’ll be in real tough fights now. Don’t let it get to you.”

“Pfft, never,” Lance said. He set the sniper in her waiting hands. “I can handle this place, no worries.”

Khattala just gave him a Look - almost like the ones Keith was always giving him. The ‘whatever you say, Lance’, which was just code for ‘I don’t believe you at all but okay.’ Any other day, Lance would have challenged that look - from Khattala, Keith, anyone - but he was still turning the idea of cameras over in his head. He left Khattala with a wink, walking back through the hall on his own as she shut down the range. The guards at the arena door were already waving in the first pair of fighters and Lance slowed to watch them enter. He only sped up again when one of the guards looked over to him.

The training room was up ahead, a couple doors down from the arena. It was the same one they always got ready in, where Avilus had started leaving the crate with their armor waiting for them before matches. Lance stepped through the door without breaking stride. The second he spotted Keith, he started talking. “Keith! I learned something about this place, and, man! I gotta talk to you about it.”

Keith had jumped when Lance spoke, twisting on his heels to face the door. The black flightsuit clung to his shoulders, undone at the throat. Black and gold armor was already on his legs. “What - Lance. What happened?”

Lance graciously decided not to comment on Keith’s startled little jump. “Oh, just some security. What was that, uh… that little hop you did there?” Okay, so he couldn’t help himself. He grinned as Keith gave him one hell of a stare. “Do you always do that when you’re surprised? That’s pretty funny, honestly.”

“No,” Keith said flatly. “Usually, I have a knife and it ends up at someone’s throat.”

“Ooh, scary.”  

Keith sighed, reaching up to fasten the flightsuit around his neck. “What did you want to talk about?”

His grin faded as he approached Keith. Unlike him, Lance still wore the clothes Zeta had provided. The crate sat open in the middle of the room but he ignored it. “Right, yeah. So, Khattala told me there’s cameras in this place. Literally everywhere.” He gestured up to the ceiling. “There’s four in the cafeteria.”

Keith glanced up, following Lance’s outstretched hand, before dropping his gaze back down. “That makes sense,” he said. “They want to keep an eye on us.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, nodding, “and we have no privacy.”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me? That we have no privacy?” He cast a look back to the ceiling. “Wait, can they hear us?”

Lance shook his head. “No audio.”

Keith didn’t answer, turning back to the crate to pull more of his armor from it. Lance watched him for a second, then heaved a sigh and joined him to yank his flightsuit out. “It has to bother you too,” he said, shooting Keith a frown. “They watch everything we do. Like… like we’re - “

“Slaves?” Keith met his eyes over the crate, brows raised, head tilted.

Lance made a face. “I was gonna say prisoners.”

“Same thing,” Keith said. He lifted the chest piece out and set it aside to lift the arm braces out as well. “I’m just glad they aren’t listening.” He looked away to focus on putting armor on.

Lance took a couple steps away to turn his back on Keith. “Why?” he asked before pulling his shirt off.

“ ‘Cause if there’s cameras everywhere,” Keith said, “then it’s that much harder for us to get out.”

He froze with his thumbs hooked through his waistband. That hadn’t even occurred to him. After a beat, he spun to face Keith again. “Why would you say that?” he demanded. Keith looked back to him, eyes widening before going back to his armor. “Now I’m not gonna be able to think about anything else.”

It was a few seconds before Keith spoke again. “I thought it’d be important.” A pause, where Keith grunted and the sound of a piece of armor snapping into place filled the silence. “I know we haven’t really been working on getting out, but we will. We’ll just have cameras to think about, too.”

Now Lance was thinking about the days that just passed by in here without either of them doing anything about an escape. He hadn’t even brought up the arena to Y’skai and U’ilani, and that had been the initial reason he talked to them. They had turned out to be pretty cool aliens, and Lance definitely enjoyed the card games, but who knew what the two of them knew about this place? He made a mental note to keep escape in mind, talk to the twins, maybe try and locate the cameras.  And if a part of him was saying he’d forget, that the fights and Avilus and all the training would make him forget, well… He’d just ignore it.

The door to the room slid open just as Lance fastened the first piece of armor over his legs. He glanced up, spied Khattala pulling the heavy crate in, and gave her a brief wave. She set the crate down by the wall, unlocking it and straightening up. From where Lance sat, he could see Keith walking around him to get to her.

Keith said, “That all our weapons?”

Lance looked over at the pair of them.

Khattala held a helmet in one hand. She slid it on while holding eye contact with Keith. “Should be.”

Keith was bent over at the waist, peering into the crate. “I’m supposed to have a knife,” he said, head turning in her direction.

She stared him down for a moment, then reached for a holster on her hip, snapping a blade loose. “This one?” she said. “Avilus said you earned it.”

Keith snatched it from her hand, turning the blade over in his hands. He didn’t say anything else. From the floor, Lance looked between the two of them. Hands still holding a piece of armor to his leg, he said, “Oh, cool. Now you can stab both our enemies at the same time.” The only response he got was Keith telling him to put the rest of his armor on. Lance rolled his eyes, cinching the piece around his leg and leaning into the crate beside him to pull the rest out. The next time he looked up, armor covered his arms and he was securing his chest piece.

Khattala hadn’t moved from the door, taking up her typical pose - arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Her yellow eyes were just visible through the helmet’s visor. Near her, Keith had fastened the blade to his belt, and stood fully armored, sword in hand. “Ready?” he asked.

Lance straightened up, spinning his helmet in his hands. “You know it,” he said, smirking. “We’re gonna get another win, Keithy-boy.”

Keith shot him a look that would’ve been threatening if a smile wasn’t pulling at his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. You two are confident, nice,” Khattala said. She pushed off the wall, dropping her hands to her belt. “You’re up next. Hurry up and follow me.” Without waiting for either of them, she turned and headed out the door. Before he followed, Keith gave Lance a glance - and then he was gone, and Lance was left fishing his guns out of the crate and hurrying along. He was slinging the sniper over his shoulder as he caught up to them in the hall.

The heavy arena doors were, like always, guarded by rifle-wielding aliens. One of them nodded at Khattala, said the fight inside would likely be over in the next few doboshes, and moments later, Avilus arrived. He greeted them both with his usual spiel - “I trust you’ll fight hard, boys. You’ve done well so far,” - along with finally explaining to them what was going on. Lance was rather proud of the fact that he managed to school his face into a look of mild alarm.

Unlike Keith, who was considering the hilt of his sword with a bored expression all over his face. Avilus was looking between the two of them as if gauging their reaction, and if he was, then he’d definitely have something to say about Keith.

Before he had the chance, the arena doors were pulled open. A pair of aliens walked through - or, limped, rather. The taller of the two had an arm around the others’ waist, pulling them along. Blood, a deep shade of purple, dripped down the smaller one’s face from a large, angry gash over their eye. It disappeared through thick fur on their head. Lance winced just looking at it.

One of the guards by the door took the bleeding alien from their partner. “That’s a lot of blood,” he said, looking from the alien in his arms to Khattala.

She had straightened up as the doors opened, head swerved to lock onto the fighters. “You,” she said to the conscious one. “How bad was she hurt? In your opinion, is she going to make it?”

The alien looked from Khattala to their partner. “I - I don’t know, honestly.” Their voice was small, fragile.

Khattala huffed. “Go sit in the lounge,” she said to them. “I’ll let you know what happens.” As the alien nodded and limped past them, Lance caught sight of the dazed look of their eyes. Khattala was speaking to the other guard now in clipped, harsh words. “Take them to the medics. If they argue, tell them I told you to and I will not stand for this bullshit about no treatment right now. Not when we have a fighter in this condition. I’ll be up there as soon as these two get in the arena.”

The guard nodded, adjusted his grip on the alien, and started off. Rather than walk down the hall to the stairs - where the stairs led up to the third-floor medbay - he turned left and disappeared around the corner into the long hallway there.

A few seconds of silence passed. Then, the other guard whistled, low and long. “Must’ve been a harsh fight,” they muttered. “Been a while since one got that messed up.”

Khattala made a harsh sound somewhere between a scoff and a growl. “There’s always something in these stupid tournaments.”  Without another word, she pushed through the arena doors, letting them slam behind her.

Immediately, Avilus spoke. “That, boys,” he said, “is what happens when you lose.” He gave them a condescending smile. “So you better earn me another win.”

Lance had never hated him more. It was impossible to keep the distaste off his face as he met Avilus’s gaze. Avilus clapped him on the shoulder before leaving, walking in the same direction the guard had gone. He had barely turned the corner when Lance said, “What a dick.”

Keith hummed an agreement.

To Lance’s surprise, the guard left by door spoke up. “Avilus is one of the worst,” they said. “Only cares about making money.” When they caught Lance looking their way, they shrugged. “Hey, I don’t like seeing you guys die out there.”

That had Keith casting a skeptical gaze at them as well. “You didn’t sound too torn up about that girl’s condition.”

“People get hurt,” the guard said flatly. “Medics can save them.”

Lance wanted to question that - wasn’t sure why or what he’d say. Something about a guard of the arena actually claiming to care about them felt strange. He eyed the purple splashes of blood on the floor and frowned. Maybe it just tied into what Keith had said.

The arena doors pushed open again soon after and Khattala stalked back out. She held a helmet in one hand, a sharp scary alien blade strapped to her hip. An extra gun was slung across her chest. She rushed by them, spitting out, “You’re up,” before she vanished down the hall. The guard straightened up, waving for them to head through the doors.

Spots of purple blood dotted the way up to the arena. Lance couldn’t help but flick his eyes from one to the next as he walked next to Keith. For the first time in a while, the dread of fighting in the arena was heavy in his veins. The threat of loss was stronger than ever and that poor alien girl… He was mere steps from the arena and he couldn’t get the image of her slumped in her partner’s grasp out of his head.

He took a quick look at Keith and froze midstep.

Keith was staring back at him, brow quirked. When their gazes locked, he said, “You’re thinking about the alien girl, aren’t you?”

Lance blinked. He opened his mouth to deny it and then sighed. “So what if I am?”

“That won’t happen to us,” Keith said. “If anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll be there. And I promise you, I can make them hurt worse than anything they’d do to you.”

That… should not be comforting.

What the hell was this arena doing to him?

He smiled anyway as some of the tension flowed out of him. “Alright, hotshot.” He hoisted the rifle up, balancing it on his shoulder. “This the part where I say I’ll protect you too? ‘Cause, baby,” he paused to wink as Keith rolled his eyes, “I’ll take on the world for you.”

Keith had started forward before Lance even finished talking. “Shut up, Lance.”

“I’ll shoot a hundred aliens, Keith!” he said, hurrying forward. “No! A thousand! The entire Galra empire.”

Keith didn’t answer. They stepped out into the arena and Lance took a second to flick the comms on before heading for a place to jump to the vents. He could hear Keith’s quiet laughter now and didn’t even fight the grin that sprang to life. “Oh, Keith,” he said, piling on a flirtatious lilt. “I’ll take on anyone who hurts you. Lay them all at your feet, baby.”

“Never call me that again.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

Keith was laughing still.

It was official. This stupid arena was making them both crack. Lance chuckled as well, leaping for the vents. The jetpack pushed him forward, a bullet pinged against his boots, and he ignored it to settled onto the slick surface. He eyed Keith down below and couldn’t stop himself. “I’m offering you all your fallen enemies, and all you do is nitpick my petnames. You’re the worst.”

The stupid banter was melting away his anxiety. All the fear rooted from that girl was fading in the wake of the fight, of Keith’s voice low in his ear.

“I don’t need you to take down my enemies,” Keith said. He looked small from up here, slipping between cover. “I’m more than capable of that.”

Lance pulled the sniper from his back, eyes scanning the arena for their enemies. “Ohh, don’t I know it,” he said. The pair of aliens where creeping closer to his and Keith’s side of the arena. He trained the scope on each of them in turn - one with a tail, one with a long torso. He made a face as he watched that one curve unnaturally to slide between two rocks. Their armor was painted in Zeta’s colors, the flashes of gold easy to track. The flirting edge to his voice was gone as he fed Keith directions, as Lance eased quickly into the cold focus of battle.

It wasn’t a difficult fight by any means. Keith took on the tailed one, leaving Lance to try and pin down the slithery creepy one. Had him moving around on the vents and pipes a lot as the damn alien twisted through small gaps to cut off his line of sight. Eventually, he made the decision to leave the high ground in favor of jumping from rock to rock after the alien. The sniper was exchanged for his rifle and, eventually, he pinned the alien down.

Not a hard fight, but an exhausting one. One that felt like it stretched for hours. His banter with Keith had been lost as they fought, the win didn’t feel all that special, and the slender form of the alien lying at his feet was kind of sad. He’d ended up slamming the butt of his rifle into its helmet until the visor had cracked. Hit it hard enough to knock it out, and tossed its weapon - a scary looking serrated blade - into the abyss at the edge of the arena.

Now that it was over, Lance felt the lack of sleep hit him worse than before. He left the arena with Keith at his side, listening to his friend go over his side of their win. Apparently, the alien had managed to both parry and disarm Keith in one move, something that would have been an advantage if Keith hadn’t had the Mamora blade on him.

Lance said, “Showoff,” and Keith smiled. He was more pleased by the win than Lance was - but, then again, Keith hadn’t been the one awake half the night.

“You should’ve seen his face when it transformed,” Keith said.

Past the arena doors, there was still just the one guard standing by. Another walked over to them to retrieve the weapons and left to the training room. Lance watched the guard go, then found himself staring down at the floor, looking for wayward splashes of dark purple blood. Most of it had been cleaned, but a small spot near the wall. That, coupled with the absent guard, had him wondering how that alien girl was doing. He recalled the limp form of her being pulled through the doors, the blood dripping down her face.

“Lance?”

He blinked, looked back at Keith.

Keith stared back, helmet in one hand, head tilted. His hair was a mess again. “You coming or what?”

“...Huh?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I said,” he sighed, “that I’m gonna find the twins. See if they can teach me more card games. They’re kinda fun.” Right. Unlike Lance, Keith was picking up these alien card games quickly and enjoyed trying to beat the skilled aliens at them.

“Those games are weird,” Lance said. He moved forward to Keith’s side, walking beside him toward the lounge. A yawn was growing in the back of his throat and he forced it back. “Makes sense you’d like them.”

“You’re jealous you can’t win, aren’t you?”

“Ahh, shut up.” He frowned, nudging Keith sharply. The training room passed by on their right. “Blackjack-tuna is impossible.”

Keith took a breath to answer, and then Avilus’s voice cut through the air -

“Boys.”

They froze, glanced at one another, and looked behind them. Just that one word had been laced with anger. Avilus was leaning out the door of the training room, an intense glare on his face. Lance took one look at him and his heart dropped. Avilus said, “Get in here. Both of you. Right now,” and pulled back into the room.

Beside him, Keith huffed a breath. “This guy,” he murmured, already stomping forward.

Lance followed him with slow steps, rubbing one armored hand over his other arm. The fight was already running through his head as he tried to pinpoint anything that would’ve upset Avilus. They had won, neither of them injured, no broken weapons or armor…

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t think of anything. Stepping into the training room, he was pinned with an accusing stare that had him swallowing past a stubborn seed of fear in his throat. Avilus watched him until Lance came to stand beside Keith and then he pointed at the crate at his feet. It was the one for their weapons; the barrel of Lance’s sniper was poking out the top of it. “Tell me,” Avilus said, voice low and dangerous, “do you not understand what you do with your weapons after a fight?”

Lance glanced from the crate to Avilus and back again. “Uh… Someone takes them?” he said.

“They go in the armory,” Avilus said. “And they stay there until you need them again.”

Confused, Lance only stared at him. Neither he nor Keith was saying anything, but Avilus was glaring them down as if they should instantly know what the problem was here.

After a few moments of silence, Avilus spoke again. Every word was practically a growl. “Then why - _why_ have you not turned over all of your weapons? When have I ever led you to believe you’re allowed to keep them?”

“Keep them?” Lance repeated. He actually patted down the thigh of his right leg, where the bayard would form for him to grasp if it were there. He hadn’t kept a thing, and Keith had been disarmed in battle. “Keep - ? What did we - ?”

Wait.

He paused, turned to Keith to frown at the other boy.

Keith was meeting Avilus’s glare with his own fierce stare. His arms were crossed, helmet hanging loosely from two fingers. Keith had been disarmed, but Keith had two weapons now - Lance glanced behind Keith without thinking, looking skeptically at the small of his back. The blade was still strapped to the belt of his armor. Lance made a face at it before shooting his eyes back up to Keith’s face.

Lance said quietly, “Keith.”

Keith’s stare faltered. He looked to Lance for one second then to the floor and then back to Avilus.

Lance groaned. “What the fuck? Why would you keep it?”

“It’s mine,” Keith said. He was holding Avilus’s stare once more, unmoving. “I’m keeping it.”

A noise wormed up Lance’s throat, something laced with disbelief, a strangled curse, wrapped around Keith’s name. He wanted to slap his friend, wanted to yank the knife off his body. “You’re an idiot,” he hissed. He looked at Avilus and winced; the alien’s anger was palpable. “You’re a fucking moron.” All he could do now was look from Avilus’s face to the alien’s clenched fists, weeks old fear awakening in his gut. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Keith was ignoring him, all his attention on Avilus.

Avilus said, “Give it to me. Now.”

Keith’s response was predictable. One single, “No.”

Lance was going to scream. He edged away from Keith, arms wrapping around himself as if Avilus’s fury was trained on him again. He eyed the pair of them, waiting for Avilus to strike or for Keith to do something stupid like pull the knife on the alien.

Oh, god. Keith would totally do that.

Lance whimpered. He couldn’t take this. He just wanted a nap and now he was going to have to watch Keith get himself beaten because he was too stubborn to hand over a knife. Mere feet in front of him, Avilus had held a hand out, palm flat - and Keith’s arms fell to his sides as he took a large step back. One of his hands reached behind him, curling around the hilt for his blade. The helmet he was holding fell to the floor.

“Hand it over,” Avilus barked.

Again, Keith refused. His face was contorted into a snarl, teeth bared. ”I’m not giving it to you,” he said.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Lance’s breath caught in his throat and he watched, wide-eyed, as Avilus shot forward. One huge hand snagged Keith by an arm, pulling him closer even as he tried to pull away. The telltale flash of a knife in the light as Avilus twisted Keith’s arm, forced the hand with the blade from around his back. Keith was cursing, thrashing in the alien’s grip. And then Avilus’s free hand rose up, that meaty fist aimed at Keith.

Lance barrelled into Keith before he even registered his own feet moving, shoving his partner - his idiot, stupid friend - out of the way. Keith’s hand was yanked out of Avilus’s grasp, Lance’s weight enough to free him. Something clattered against the ground. He heard Keith curse at him at the exact moment pain erupted in his unprotected stomach. The air left his lungs in a rush. Lance winced, drew in a breath that immediately left as a wheeze. Electric strikes of pain flared up as he breathed. Avilus pulled his fist back with a judgmental sound, and Lance wrapped an arm around his waist.

“What a foolish thing to do,” Avilus said.

Slowly, Lance raised his eyes. He met Avilus’s gaze and dropped his own to the floor. He couldn’t argue with that - it was stupid. He’d had enough pain at the hands of the giant before him and he still threw himself right into it. For once, he wasn’t the target of Avilus’s rage and he took it anyway.

Behind him, Keith said, “Lance, what the hell? Are you okay?”

And he’d done it for Keith.

He didn’t look up from the floor, just drew in shaky breaths through the pain. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “Why couldn’t you just… give it back?” If Keith had done what he was supposed to, neither one of them would have had to deal with Avilus.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the blade sitting on the floor. Avilus was walking to it. Lance looked over to watch him pick it up, wrapping his fist around it and nearly hiding it entirely. “You’ll be lucky if you get it back for any other fights,” he said, eyes on Keith. He left then, and the instant the door shut, Lance could feel Keith’s eyes on him.

With a heavy sigh, he turned his head to face the other boy.

“Why did you do that?” Keith asked. His brow was furrowed, mouth in a thin line. “What were you even thinking?”

“Uhh, not much,” Lance said, staring at him. Was Keith angry? “You want me to let Avilus hit you next time?”

Keith’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I wouldn’t care if he did.” He gestured toward the door with one hand. “Avilus doesn’t scare me. I don’t care what he does. But you made me drop the knife!”

Lance twitched, his hand tightening around his side. “Wait, are you actually mad at me? I take a hit for you, and you’re mad?” He laughed, harsh, humorless, and set a glare in Keith’s direction. “Nice, Keith.”

“You know how important that knife is,” Keith said.

In the wake of the pain, Lance was left with quickly growing anger of his own. The lingering burn in his stomach faded even more as he stared at Keith, let it fully sink in. He took a hit for Keith and all this idiot cared about was a knife. He cursed, lobbed an insult in Keith’s direction - all in Spanish, let the guy try and figure out what it was Lance said. In English, he added, “This is unbelievable. Good to know your knife is more important, won’t get in the way next time.”

Keith scowled, one fist at his side. He pointed an accusing finger at Lance, saying, “I could have handled that fine! No one asked you to throw yourself in the way!”

“Oh, don’t worry. Definitely not doing it again.” He turned, heading toward the door as he spoke. “You can take Avilus on all by yourself if that’s what you want!”

“What I want,” Keith growled, “is my fucking knife.”

The anger in Lance tipped over into a burning fire. He paused, then spun back to face Keith. “You can’t keep a knife on you!” His voice was rising and he didn’t bother to stop it. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s mine - “

“And you’re a fucking slave, Keith!”

Keith took a step back, mouth snapping shut.

“Do you see anyone else out there with a weapon?” Lance threw his arm at the door for emphasis, the other still locked around his stomach. “No, you don’t. We aren’t allowed weapons.”

“They stole it from me,” Keith said. He wasn’t yelling back but his words were cold, edged with danger. “I’m not anyone’s slave and if I want my knife, I’ll take it back.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Lance said. “Go fight Avilus. Not like he can totally kill you or anything.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I told you, Avilus doesn’t scare me.”

“Maybe he should!”

“Are you done?” Keith’s cold stare was unwavering. “You lost me something important - “

“Like you’re not gonna get it back - “

“ - and now you’re just being annoying.”

Lance took a deep breath, bringing both hands up to rub at his temples and only hitting the helmet. He settled for flattening both palms over his visor, blocking Keith from view. Anger was pulsing at his skull and if he didn’t leave soon, he was going to punch Keith in the face. “You’re the worst,” he said, low, quiet. “Why couldn’t anyone else have come to get me?”

He hadn’t thought Keith could hear that.

But he did, because his next response was a scoff and, “Trust me, Lance, I’d go back and do it over if I could.”

Lance lowered his hands to stare at Keith, eyes narrowed. “What?”

Keith was glaring again, his arms crossed. “I should’ve left you on that stupid planet. Trying to help you caused more trouble, and if I had, I’d still have - “

Lance’s blood was running cold. He scowled. “If you say that goddamn knife - “

“ - my fucking knife. I’d have my knife, and I wouldn’t be stuck here with you.”

It was a few seconds before Lance could make himself move, let alone speak. He hadn’t been this angry with Keith in a long time - they bickered and he encouraged Keith’s anger often, but this was a whole other level. His head felt ready to burst from it, his hands shook from the effort it took to restrain himself from charging Keith and smashing his stupid face into the ground. His throat worked but the words didn’t come, and hot, angry tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

He couldn’t remember a thing about what had started this whole mess. He had ideas that Keith gave him - a vague picture of a sickly looking planet and broken down lions and strange alien pirates. “You….” He stopped, blinking back tears before they fell. “You’re not the only one stuck here.”

Neither one of them had wanted this, had asked for it.

Before Keith could speak again, Lance whirled, speeding for the door. He was out in the hall without another word, walking back to the arena and on through the hall beside it. The guards by the door said nothing; that was good, since Lance had no idea where he was going. He only knew he wanted to get as far away from Keith as possible, and since leaving the arena wasn’t an option, this was what he had. One long, curved hall with unknowns behind every door.

He tried the firing range Khattala always brought him to first. The door was locked and the keypad flashed red when he tried it. Scowling, Lance kicked the door with one foot and stomped away. There were guards stationed along the hall at intervals and he glared at each of them as he passed, wishing one of them would question him, try to force him out of here. A pair of armored aliens were hanging out by one door and he did the same to them.

They merely stared at him until he moved on.

All he wanted was to hit someone and have them fight back. With as much anger as he had coursing through him, he could put up a hell of a good fight. Part of him whispered to go back, just turn around and find Keith. Punch him like he wanted, start an actual fight. He refused to, though the reason why eluded him. Keith was a perfect target. Stupid Keith and his stupid temper and stupid eyes -

With a jolt, Lance recalled the night before and all the worrying that had kept him up. He slowed to a stop in the hall, frowning at the floor. Yesterday, he had been sure Keith had wanted to kiss him. Seemed like a cruel joke now. Keith couldn’t be interested in him and talk like that.

Maybe Keith didn’t even think they were friends.

All these weeks they’d been here, Keith could have been hiding how truly irritated he was to have Lance with him. He could have finally snapped, had enough of pretending to tolerate Lance and let it out.

And wasn’t that an awful idea.

The door closest to him slid open before Lance could spend too long thinking on it. He turned his gaze towards it instinctively, face still schooled into a scowl. It faltered as soon as he found himself staring up at the alien behind it. At a four-eyed, four-armed, tall alien with a frightening as hell helmet on. He blinked.

Y’skai’s voice was so loud it echoed down the near empty hall. “Lance! My friend!” He reached out with one lower arm, snagging Lance by the bicep and dragging him over. “You look upset. What’s wrong?” He bent down to speak, four yellow-green eyes boring into Lance. “Has someone hurt you? I’ll hurt them back.”

Lance sighed. That was eerily similar to Keith’s reassurances from before the fight. “I’m fine,” he said, shaking out of Y’skai’s grip. He walked through the doorway at the alien’s insistence, one heavy hand on his shoulder. Inside, U’ilani stood by a large table, a massive gun in her two lower arms. He waved at her.

“He doesn’t look well,” she said. “What’s happened, Lance?”

“I’m fine.”

“He says that,” Y’skai said, “but I don’t believe him. Look at him.”

The hand on Lance’s shoulder lifted off just to slam back down. He stumbled forward a couple steps, frowning. “Look, guys, seriously. I’m fine.” More or less, anyway. So Keith was a dick. What else was new? “I’ll get over it.”

U’ilani had set her gun down on the table, walking over to them both. “He looks sad,” she commented.

“I am not sad.” Not even a little bit. What was there to be sad over? “Just - “ The two aliens were both staring down at him and he sighed. “Okay. Look, I’m not sad and I’m not hurt. Keith just… he pissed me off, alright?”

The twins exchanged a look, then back to him. Y’skai’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “He… he did what?” Y’skai asked.

“It’s nothing, really!” Just Keith caring more about a super special knife. Lance looked from one twin to the other and back again, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture. “He just…” He paused, frowning. “He tried to keep his knife. From Avilus. As if he could carry it around with him.”

“And then he…?” Y’skai gestured at Lance with one hand, taking a step away from him. He made a quiet, low noise as he did.

Lance stared at him, brows raised curiously. “Then he yelled at me. What’s up with you?”

Y’skai gave another noise, higher than the first, and whipped his head to his sister. “Is this a human thing?” he whispered. Not that it hid much, since Lance was standing right beside him. “Do they all do this to each other?”

U’ilani was still staring at Lance. “I would hope not,” she said. “It’s rather disgusting.”

Well, now Lance was just confused. “Sorry, what’s disgusting?”

“What Keith did to you,” U’ilani said.

Y’skai was still making those noises, sounding more and more like a distressed puppy. Lance looked over at him to find the alien had wrapped his lower arms around himself and was hunching into his shoulders. What the hell?

“What are you talking about?” Lance said, looking back at U’ilani. She had reached out one hand for Y’skai to grasp. “All he did was yell at me. Normal Keith stuff.”

U’ilani tilted her head an angle that would painful for a human being. “So he didn’t…?”

“Didn’t _what?”_

She looked at her brother again - who was now tugging on her hand so forcefully it shook her - and then back at him. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “there is a translation error.” And then she explained, over her brother’s unending distressed noises, what the two of them had heard. It turned out the translators had stumbled over an important phrase, leading both to the conclusion Keith had - “He did not relieve himself on you?” U’ilani said.

Lance’s mouth hung open. He tried for a word and squeaked instead. Which was embarrassing. He cleared his throat, tried again, and - “No! God - no. Just, no. Ugh. That’s… ew.”

Next to him, Y’skai’s sigh of relief was loud. “Ohh, Thank Sicai. I couldn’t handle that.”

“I just meant - I said Keith made me angry!” Lance made a face at him. “Why would you even - ?”

“I am so glad,” Y’skai said. He straightened up, released U’ilani, and then promptly took Lance with his lower arms and yanked him into a tight hug. “Never do that to me again. I can’t think of you like that. It’s horrifying.”

It definitely was, he wasn’t gonna argue. Squashed against Y’skai’s armored chest, with four arms wrapped around him, Lance wasn’t sure he could even he wanted to. As it was, he could just barely catch U’ilani’s eyes and send a silent plea to help him.

She tapped her brother on the shoulder. “If you would let him go,” she said. “Since that’s been cleared up, I believe there is a more important matter here.” She didn’t continue until Y’skai released him, until Lance stood before her. “You said Keith tried to keep a knife?”

Lance hesitated, face twisting into a deep scowl. He had, however briefly, had his anger ebb away. It was hard to remain so mad when faced with the twins, something that was multiplied by a hundred when translators made situations awkward. “Yeah,” he said, drawing it out with a sigh. He rubbed at his arm, under the piece of armor on his shoulder. His gaze was focused on U’ilani’s chest plate; there was a design there, scrawled in alien text. “Keith’s a stubborn moron, but this takes the cake for sure.”

The twins exchanged a look but didn’t interrupt.

So Lance told them what had happened. Mostly, anyway. He left out the stuff Keith said about leaving him alone on that planet, and his own thoughts that they might not be friends like he thought after all. He’d deal with all that on his own later. Much later.

It was enough, anyway. He gave them the important parts and they each reassured him Keith couldn’t have meant it. “He’s angry,” U’ilani said. “Everyone says hurtful things when they’re mad.”

Lance shrugged.

“I can see what you’re thinking,” Y’skai told him, “but I can’t believe that boy finds a knife more important than you.”

He probably should’ve seen this coming. “You should’ve heard him,” Lance said, crossing his arms. He was aware that, at the moment, his scowl was more of a pout. “All he cares about is that knife. It’s ridiculous. Like he’d rather have the knife than me.” Instantly, anxiety flourished in his gut. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Y’skai’s hand settled on his shoulder once more, the alien tilting his head down toward Lance. He said, “With a bond like yours, you have to fight to make it past times like these. All of us fight, and you are young - much younger than most bonded Ralthurians, in fact - but I have seen how strong the bond between you is. You will make it out of this fine. Maybe better than before.”

Lance fixed him with a questioning stare. He took a breath to ask about all this ‘bond’ talk, but U’ilani was speaking before he could.

“If he doesn’t apologize,” she said, “then confront him directly.”

Lance snorted. “Not gonna happen. Confronting Keith is like pulling teeth. He’ll be even more stubborn and retreat into himself and then I’ll never get anywhere.” Hell, they might even end up like they were when they first got launched into space. An angry, distant Keith - and Lance refusing to acknowledge him beyond anger.

“Then I will hit him for you,” Y’skai said, nodding.

U’ilani’s eyes snapped to him in an instant. “Y’skai.” The frown was evident in her voice. The crossed upper arms paired with her lower arms poised on her hips was just overkill. “You will not hit someone’s bonded.”

“I will if that bonded is an idiot,” Y’skai shot back. He mirrored his sister’s pose exactly.

Lance was more confused by these two than ever. He muttered under his breath, “What on earth,” and was sure they didn’t hear him because they were now too busy bickering. He watched U’ilani raise a hand and smack Y’skai on the head - right on one of the sharp ear-like protrusions of his helmet - and started to back slowly to the door. ”This was great,” he said loudly. “Really helped. Not mad anymore, thanks!”

Neither of them looked back.

With one last confused look at them, Lance stepped through the door and back into the hall. He hadn’t lied. Almost all of his anger had faded away, from both the initial confusion and horror, as well as the talk afterward. Somewhere in all that ‘bonded’ talk, the twins had had some helpful tips. It basically boiled down to two things:

Try to talk to Keith.

And, if that failed, hit him instead.

Later, of course. He was allowed to stay angry for a while longer. Lance walked down the hall the way he’d come with his emotions in check. He thought he might get food, maybe try to get that nap he so rightly deserved. Maybe if he had time after, he’d find the twins again and ask what the hell the ‘bonded’ bullshit was about anyway.

✦✦✦✦✦

Their second fight of the day began just over an hour after Lance had laid down for his nap. He had fallen onto his bed - or, Keith’s, whatever - in full armor for what felt like seconds before a guard came to get him. So, he never got around to talking to Keith or to the twins. He walked into the training room yawning, arms stretched over his head, and resolutely ignored Keith’s presence.

Kind of, anyway. Lance took one quick peek at the other boy, just long enough to see that Keith stood stiffly by the wall. He had his eyes on the floor and held himself with tension, jaw tight and shoulders squared.

Lance didn’t speak to him. He pulled his weapons from the crate, and then walked to stand by the door away from Keith. The room was stifling, the silence awkward. Lance ached to break the tension and just snap at Keith, insult him, bodycheck him into the wall, something. He forced himself to do nothing, gritting his teeth together and staring fiercely at the door in an attempt to will it to open.

There was rustling from where Keith stood. A sigh. Then, to Lance’s surprise, Keith spoke. “Look, Lance… About earlier, I - “

“Nope.” He turned his head to give Keith a bright, cheerful grin. “Fuck you, buddy.”

Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as he scowled. “Seriously? I’m trying to apologize.”

“I don’t accept,” Lance said. The false grin dropped from his face and he turned back to the door. “You acted like a dick, so I think I’m allowed to be angry a little longer.”

Keith cursed, started and abandoned a sentence, and settled on huffing out a, “Whatever.”

Silence ran over them, thick with tension and Lance’s slowly unfurling irritation. Standing here with just Keith for company, in the very room he’d been yelled at, was only making him angrier. Hopefully whoever they fought made for good targets because he could really use some stress relief.

The door opened soon enough, a guard waiting, and Lance was following Keith into the arena within two minutes. He glared at the other boy’s back before the arena’s hard dirt floor stirred under his feet. The Mamora blade was once more strapped into place. Splitting off from Keith, he spoke into the comms shortly: “I’ll watch you back, but you’re still a dick.”

His feet were on a rusted machine when Keith answered back - “Noted.”

Just one word so filled with aggression that Lance was tempted to sling the sniper off his back and fire at Keith rather than the aliens. He restrained himself and made the leap up, skidding on vents before finding his footing. It wasn’t the time to bicker with Keith anyway. The arena was spread out below him and he had enemies to find, track, and beat.

They weren’t hard to find, the aliens he and Keith faced. Each one was huge and hulking, easily over eight feet tall. One carried a long spear, its sharp edge glinting in the overhead lights. The other had an identical spear on its back along with a long rifle in its hands. Lance considering that for a moment before relaying the information to Keith. “Looks like it doesn’t have a scope,” he said, “so not capable of hitting you across the arena.”

Unless the alien had really good eyesight.

“Got it.”

Keith was moving. Lance watched him, thinking that, compared to their enemies, Keith looked small.

He focused on the fight after that.

It wasn’t anything special. The usual thing where Keith danced around their opponents, blade leaving a shining trail as Keith swung it. Lance fed him information, told him when to duck, when to weave, and fired down on the pair of huge aliens as often as he could. He landed a hit on the arm of one, making them flinch and miss Keith with a violent stab of their spear. After that, Keith started to lead one further away from its partner, leaving Lance to pepper that one with gunfire. He shot as fast he was able, keeping the aliens’ attention while Keith lured the other further and further.

He had given away his position ages ago, but since Keith had the one with the gun preoccupied, he didn’t bother moving. Kneeling where he was, part of the vent rose before him, provided him with the support to rest he sniper on as well as cover for his body. Even if someone was to shoot at him, he’d have to duck down and move.

Nothing bad, nothing difficult. He was positive they’d have this win nailed down in five more minutes.

And then, suddenly, Keith was grunting into the comms. “Uh, Lance?” He sounded winded. “Little help?”

Frowning, Lance drew his attention from the alien, scanning the field. He caught sight of the other alien, slid the sniper over to line up the scope, and immediately saw the problem. The alien, standing tall over Keith, had snatched his sword arm in one hand. It’s hand was large enough that it covered nearly all of Keith’s forearm. The spear was in the alien’s other hand, tip pointed at Keith’s throat. Lance took a moment to line up the right shot -

The alien pulled Keith closer, Keith’s boots digging in the dirt. As Lance watched, Keith dropped the sword; a sharp intake of breath through the comms at the same time, Keith hissing out a curse. “Lance!”

“I’ve got you,” Lance snapped. “Just hold still for one second.” He knew where to shoot, had everything good to go, finger tight on the trigger. If he missed, he’d shoot Keith.

“He’s literally pulling me,” Keith said. “I can’t hold still!”

Lance cursed. He moved the sniper from where it was focused on the alien’s throat, on the sliver of unprotected flesh there, and fired a round into the ground by its feet instead. It wasn’t perfect - a rushed shot - but it made the alien jerk back and opened up space for Lance to realign the gun. “Now will you hold still?” he said.

Keith growled in his ear but said nothing. It gave Lance the perfect mental image of Keith gritting his teeth, a spark of fire in his dark eyes.

The alien jerked Keith forward again, spear raised.

Again, Lance fired. It missed the alien’s throat and he cursed, watching the alien’s shoulder jerk back from the impact. It didn’t release Keith. If anything, it must have tightened its grip judging by Keith’s curse, the way he was fighting the alien below. Lance was searching for another shot when Keith’s quickened breaths halted for a second.

A quiet, “No,” drifted through the comms followed by a scream. It was strangled, cut off by Keith yelling at the alien holding onto him, but still a scream.

Wide-eyed, Lance looked through his scope at Keith, at the odd angle of his arm as the alien pulled him forward alien. He called out to Keith, barely hearing himself, unable to look away for a split second.

In that time, the alien had bent Keith’s arm further. Keith screamed again, choked and badly stifled. He was being forced to his knees in the dirt of the arena floor, and Lance was pushing off the vent as fast as he could. The jetpacks kicked it, carrying him to ground faster. He called Keith’s name again, louder, more frantic, and only got a curse in response. Lance’s feet hit the top of a rock and he pushed off, eyes locked onto Keith - on the spear at his throat, his arm in an alien’s grip - and forgot about anything else. He forgot to be angry, forgot about the fight and the other alien. Couldn’t make room for anything else but the fact that Keith was in danger and Keith was hurt.

It sounded like Keith was crying over the comms and that tripped Lance’s heart in his chest. Keith never cried. He was stoic and stubborn and Lance would have said he was incapable of tears.

He let go of the sniper the instant his feet his solid ground. The rifle was slung low over his back and he swung that around instead, focusing it on the alien holding Keith down. The laser fire poured from the barrel before he had even slowed to a stop. “Let him go,” Lance snarled. He urged the gun to shoot faster, pressed down harder on the trigger. “Let him go!”

The alien had backed away as soon as lasers sparked its armor, but now it flung Keith’s arm back at him. Keith brought his injured arm to his chest, his other hand coming up to hold it there. His whole arm shook as he did and Lance kept up the unrelenting rain of gunfire. “How you holding up, Keith?” he asked.

Keith took a shaky breath, cursing quietly. “I.. I think he broke it,” he said in a quiet voice. “Even through the armor, he - he fuckin’ broke my arm.”

If possible, Lance could have taken out both their opponents with his anger alone.

He said, “I got this, Keith. Don’t worry.”

“Lance.”

The alien was pulling his own rifle around to face Lance.

“I can do this,” Lance said.

“No, Lance - “

He pushed the trigger down, and before he could even see the lasers flare to life, something latched onto his helmet. Something heavy and tight, something that lifted him up and scared the anger straight out of him. On the ground, Keith was wrestling to his feet, his good hand reaching behind him for the blade.

Lance remembered the other alien out there and whispered out, “Oh.”

It couldn’t even be a second later when the grip on his helmet wrenched him up and backwards. Everything snapped into slow motion for the fall, making his descent take hours rather than seconds. There was Keith, the flash of the blade in his hand changing form. There was the gun the alien wielded, shifting from Lance back to Keith. Then there was the second alien, the one Lance had forgotten, staring him down with a black visor.

He had time to think this fight had gone really, really bad, and then time sped up as the ground rose to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is a serious moment dont write something dumb  
> my idiot brain: do you think aliens know what 'pissed off' means or  
> me: fuckin perfect lets use it
> 
> BTW HUGE NOTE HERE K  
> i'm working the usa elections for the next two and a half weeks ok. i'll write here and there but idk how much i'll get done cause i'll be busier than usual. will try for regular update in two weeks, but we shall see ok.
> 
> next chpt:  
> \- keith is treated for his broken arm  
> \- pidge exists again  
> \- lance accidentally encourages rumors


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to the left, an exponential increase of gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi couple things: 
> 
> first, thank you guys for still keeping up with this. i didn't write much while the elections were going on because i was working anywhere from 8 - 11 hours every day (except sundays).  
> second, due to how long this business with keith went on in the beginning of the chapter, i chose to push pidge's section to the start of the next one. otherwise, you wouldn't be getting an update this week. and i really wanted to get this done.  
> third, if you remember, i mentioned something at the end of chpt 10 about lance encouraging rumors? well. it's subtle. will be more obvious next update. 
> 
> enjoy, happy american thanksgiving, enjoy the gay

Lance was aware of two things. 

First, his head was killing him. Centered around the back of his head was a dull throb, pain pulsating in time with his heartbeat. It was covering his back and shoulders too, draped there like a shroud. And second, he could hear two voices. One male, one female. They were talking about someone’s injuries; one of them mentioned something about a fight, and Lance understood that they were talking about him. 

The lighter voice - the female - said, “If he doesn’t wake soon, we’ll call down a medic.” 

The other said, “I will bring the medic here myself.” 

“There is no need for that.” 

Right - the arena, the fight. An alien had thrown him. Lance should probably open his eyes. He was sure, though, that once he did, the pain constricting his skull would worsen. 

There were footsteps, stopping suddenly as the first voice said, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m bringing a medic.” 

That was the twins, he was sure. He should definitely get up, if only to assure them he was fine. 

“What did I just say?” She sounded exhausted. “You’ll cause a scene.” 

A pause. “But he’s hurt.” 

“And Keith is hurt worse. Let the medics tend to him.” 

it took a few seconds to remember and Lance cracked his eyes open while he processed what he was hearing. And then, when the image of Keith's arm bent at a strange angle burst into clarity, Lance’s eyes shot open. Dull lights shined down on him, sending light pulses of pain through his skull. He ignored it, pushing himself up on his elbows because all he could think of was Keith. 

He had to find Keith, had to make sure he was okay. It was his fault this had happened - he'd been angry, hadn't taken the shot fast enough, hadn't  been good enough -

Lance was lying on a low couch. He threw his legs over it, started to push himself up, and two strong hands held him down by his shoulders. It was in that instant, when he felt the weight pushing against him, that he realized his armor was missing.

Okay. He’d deal with that after Keith.

Yskai. The alien was bent over at the waist, his four eyes narrowed. “Lance,” he said. “I'm glad you're awake, but you need to rest.”

He shook his head, wincing when his pain sharpened intensely. “I can't.” He reached up to pull Yskai’s hands from his shoulder but the alien’s other arms snatched him by his wrists. Lance frowned. “C’mon, I have to go!”

U’ilani slid into his field of vision, hovering near her brother’s shoulders. Unlike him, she still wore her helmet, concealing her face from him completely. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said. “The guard said to keep you here and make sure you rest, and that’s what we’re going to do.” 

Lance looked between the two of them and tried to pull free from Y’skai. “I have to find Keith,” he said. A frozen image of Keith in pain, his broken arm to his chest, was at the front of his mind, prodding at him. His own pain didn’t matter compared to that. “He’s hurt,” Lance said. “I gotta find him.” 

“Keith is with the medics,” U’ilani said. Her voice was soft. “He’ll be alright.” 

In response, Lance just shook his head. Worry was swirling through his gut and clenching his heart; he took a breath and it was shaky. “Let me up,” he said, holding Y’skai’s gaze. “Please, let me go.” 

Y’skai leaned back, looked at his sister, and then back to Lance. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You need to stay here.” 

Sitting here was going to drive him insane. He had never been far from Keith in this damn arena, and he wasn’t about to just stay here while his partner was hurt and alone and surrounded by strange aliens. Lance pulled a face, glancing between the twins again, before pulling in another shuddering breath. He yanked his hands from Y’skai’s wrists, gripping at the couch he sat on. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I… I’ll stay here.” 

He waited. 

Slowly, Y’skai lifted his hands away. “You don’t have to worry,” he said, taking a step back. “The guard that took Keith away intimidates the medics. She’ll have him looked after.” 

Lance eyed the room, tilting his head to see around Y’skai large form. A bunk bed was against the wall across from the couch, a small rectangular window beside the lower bunk. The only thing visible beyond it was black. He bypassed it and the scattered items on the floor by the bunk to lock onto the door set in the wall to his left. He said, “Guard? What guard?” and when Y’skai started talking, he bolted. Pushed up from the couch and ducked under Y’skai’s arms, pushing himself to a sprint as fast as possible. 

“Lance!” That was U’ilani. He didn’t turn to look at them, focused on the door and the idea of finding his partner beyond it. 

And then one of them snagged him by the arm, heavy and strong, fingers tightening around his arm just above his elbow. He struggled against it, feet skidding on the floor, and cursed. “Let go!” he said, whirling to face them. 

Y’skai, again, all four eyes wide. “I can’t believe you’d lie to me,” he said. 

“I have to get to Keith!” 

Beyond Y’skai, U’ilani sighed. “Lance, please just - “

Lance shook his head again, tugging at Y’skai’s grip. Another hand grasped him by the wrist. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Keith’s - “

“We know,” U’ilani said. “He is your partner, you’re - “

“No!” He pulled again at Y’skai, glaring when the alien only tightened his grip. “We were arguing. I have to see him!” 

U’ilani came to stand by him, her right hands coming to settle on Lance’s left arm. “I know you’re worried,” she said quietly, “but I’m afraid you won’t be admitted to the medical center where he is.” As he turned to face her, she said that even in normal situations he wouldn’t be allowed in with Keith. Arena Zeta kept its heavily injured combatants separate from the minor injuries, meaning that with a broken arm, Keith was taken to the third floor and into a special area of the medbay. “Sometimes,” U’ilani said, “champions are allowed in with their partners, but it’s rare. They wouldn’t let you in.” 

Sometime during her explanation, tension along Lance’s shoulders melted away. He stopped fighting against Y’skai and trained his gaze on the floor beneath his feet, brow furrowed. “So even if I got away from you,” he said, “I wouldn’t get to him.” 

Y’skai patted his shoulder with one hand, the other still gripping Lance’s wrist. “I am sorry,” he said and he sounded it. “I know how important he is to you, Lance.” 

He didn’t feel like arguing that, just made a small noise. 

“Come sit down,” Y’skai said, leading him back to the couch. He pulled Lance free of U’ilani’s hands, sitting him right down where he had been before. This time, Y’skai sat down next to him, his bulk causing the couch to creak and the seat to bow inward. For a few moments, he was silent. Across from them, U’ilani had backed up to the bunk bed and sat down on the edge of it. “You’re in our room, by the way. In case you were wondering.” 

Lance blinked at him. He hadn’t even thought of where he was, too consumed with the worry that still ate at him. At those words, though, he turned and actually looked at the room. 

It wasn’t that large, about the size of an average bedroom. Though the couch and bunk bed faced one another, the center of the room was taken up by a sort of hammock strung from the ceiling in three separate places. It stretched from the far wall to halfway into the room, blankets and large pillows piled inside it. Beside the couch was a table that could seat three humans comfortable. Y’skai’s helmet was on it, along with a large red cloth that Lance was pretty sure was a decorative part of the alien’s armor. 

“Why do you guys have a room?” Lance asked. His attention was latched onto the large hammock. It looked comfortable and he kind of wanted to climb into it. “What’s with the, uh… the hammock?” 

Y’skai smiled, gesturing towards it. “That?” When Lance nodded, he said, “That is where we sleep. Typically, we would each have one, but there isn’t space in here.”

“I’d prefer to not be crowded by Y’skai,” U’ilani spoke up. “In Zeta, however, I make due.” Her tone implied she was smiling. 

To Lance, Y’skai said, “As children, we shared a bed like this. It’s less common for adult Ralthurians, but Zeta is a special circumstance. I am grateful that she’s here with me.” And then he pitched his voice louder, calling out so his sister could hear, “She hogs the blankets and kicks me out often. It’s unplesasant.” 

U’ilani’s only answer was a trill of laughter. 

“As for why we have this room,” Y’skai said, “U’ilani and I were champions three separate times. Never longer than a few movements, but for our first champion win, Avilus awarded us this room.” He raised his upper hands, palm up, to the ceiling. “There are only so many rooms available,” he said, “so I expect we will be moved back to the open bunks some day.” 

There was so much Lance could have said to him. Like how the twins sleeping in the hammock together reminded him of his siblings, of crawling into his older sister’s bed at night as a young child; or about these special private rooms and what it meant for champions of the arena to get them. Instead, he merely stared at the room in silence then sighed, leaning back in the couch. “How long was I out?” he asked, his gaze drifting to the door once more. 

Y’skai hummed beside him, a low rumbling noise.

U’ilani answered. “A little under a varga.” 

Lance nodded. 

The three of them lapsed into silence after that, the heavy air surrounding them. There was quiet rustling across the room, U’ilani moving on the bunk until she could peer out the window beside it. Y’skai was tapping a thoughtless tune against the arm of the couch. His upper arms were folded over his lap, but the bottom one still held tightly to Lance’s wrist. Lance eyed where the alien’s fingers wrapped around his arm, wondering why he hadn’t been released yet. Was Y’skai worried he’d take off again? Or was this some alien thing, some way to provide comfort? 

Every second felt like an hour. 

When the door slid open, Lance was on his feet immediately. His wrist slipped from Y’skai’s hand as the alien stood as well, both facing the door. Heart in his throat, Lance took two steps forward and then stopped with a small frown.

Khattala stared back at him, ears up. She glanced him over, said, “Good that you’re up.”

Lance said, “Where’s Keith?”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Your armor and weapons are back in Zeta’s armory, by the way. That defeat means you’re out of the tournament. For now, anyway.” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “Tomorrow, you start solo fights.”

He could not care less about the damn arena. He advanced on her, saying, “Khattala, c’mon. Where is he?” 

Her ear twitched. “You aren’t going to listen to a word I say right now, are you?”

He didn’t answer.

She cursed, her alien tongue brushing past him. “You two are absurd,” she muttered, turning from the door. To someone outside, she said, “Get in there so he’ll calm down.” Then she took a step to the side, making enough room for another person to walk through the doorway. 

Lance took one look at Keith and jolted forward, arms coming up to pull the other boy close. He stopped himself, though, eyes scanning over Keith and taking stock of several things. Unlike himself, Keith was wearing the arena’s dark clothes - short sleeves and black pants - while Lance’s flightsuit still clung to his skin. A bandage had been wrapped carefully around his head, the white of it bright against his dark hair. It ended just above his eyebrows and, just an inch or so on the left side of his head, Lance could see the small red line of a recently healed scratch. And then there was his arm - the entire left forearm was covered by a black brace, silver buckles leading a short trail from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. It hung loosely at his side as Keith blinked at Lance with wide eyes. 

“Hey,” Keith said, a smile painting his face.

Lance smiled back at him, tearing his eyes from the brace. “Uh, hey,” he said. He pointed at Keith’s head, eyes snapping back to Khattala. “What the hell is that?” Back to Keith. “What happened to your head?”

Keith’s smile faded into a frown. He reached up with his left arm, placing two fingers on the bandage. “My head?” 

“Minor injury,” Khattala said, “but it was bleeding a lot.” She stepped up to Keith’s side, pulling his hand from his face. “It should be mostly healed. The bandage is a precaution in case the cut reopens.”

Lance stared at her, then at Keith. “When did that happen?”

“After you were knocked unconscious.” 

Keith was pouting at him and it drew Lance’s attention from what Khattala was saying. He looked confused and unsure of himself and very unlike the usual grumpy Keith after a fight. He said, “Hey, Lance,” and it was quiet.

“Yeah, buddy. Hey.” Lance was expecting to hear something about the fight, or maybe their argument. Maybe even the fact that he was wearing a restrictive brace over half his arm.

Instead, Keith said, “Were you gonna hug me?” 

Surprised, Lance just stared at him and watched as a smile sparked to life on Keith’s face. If it were anyone else, Lance would dub the look he was being given as ‘shy’, but on Keith it was just… odd. He looked at Lance through the hair falling in his eyes, shoulders hunched up slightly. As Lance stood there, trying to process such a look on Keith of all people, Keith raised his arms up and the look on his face brightened expectantly. 

Lance took a breath, and eloquently asked what the hell was going on. He said, “Uhm.”

Beside Keith, Khattala failed to stifle a chuckle. “You should hug your partner,” she said, amusement dripping from her words. 

Lance shot her a confused look, but stepped forward to Keith anyway. Instantly, Keith’s arms wrapped around his waist and the other boy leaned into him. Lance laid his hands lightly against Keith’s back and felt fingers skating over his spine through the suit. He was still holding Khattala’s gaze but she only grinned at him. A second later, Lance had Keith gripping him tight, Keith’s face turned into the crook of his neck. He felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull.

Keith’s voice was muffled when his spoke, the words melting against the flightsuit. “I like hugging you,” he said. “You’re so warm.” 

What. 

Seriously, what? 

Heat was building in Lance’s cheeks as he tried to process what Keith had just said. This couldn’t be the same guy that tossed insults at him and had yelled at him that very day. Keith was awkward and unsure of himself when Lance hugged him, was stiff for too long and didn’t know what to do with his hands. Keith still jumped if Lance touched him unexpectedly, would look at him with a wary stare if Lance held his hand at night. 

Then Khattala said, “So, as it turns out, our medications affect Earthlings very strongly.” 

Lance looked at her, then at Keith in his arms. He blinked. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Oh my god. He’s high.” 

Behind him, the twins were laughing, their trills high. He hardly heard it because Keith had just heaved a contented sigh that morphed into a low hum. His arms were locked tight around Lance’s waist and he seemed to be trying to get even closer than he was now. It was just a little bit distracting. 

On top of that, Khattala was talking again. It was important, about Keith and his injuries - “He’ll be wearing the brace for a few quintants,” she was saying. “Don’t let him take it off, okay? The bone may not heal correctly if he does.” 

Lance was trying to pay attention, he really was, but Keith had shifted in his arms and Lance could feel the other boy’s breath on the inch of exposed flesh on his neck. His face was burning.

“The bandage will be removed tomorrow,” Khattala said. “Don’t let him mess with it.” She paused and Lance glanced at her to see her nose screwed up. “He kept trying to pull it off as the medic was putting it on. If he reaches for it, stop him.” She kept talking, about his projected healing progress and what the pair of them would be doing tomorrow. 

And then Keith turned his head and starting  _ nuzzling _ and Lance cut her off with a startled noise. He pushed Keith off him instantly, hands on his shoulders, ignoring the pout the other boy was giving him. “What was that?” he demanded. His voice was too high but he was already too embarrassed for it to bother him. “What are you doing?”

Keith said, “You smell good,” with a small shrug. 

Lance made a noise that sounded like something dying. He yanked his hands back to cover up his face - a useless gesture. Everyone else could probably feel the heat coming off him, he was blushing so hard. This was too goddamn weird. Softly, he said, “What the fuck, Keith.” Between his fingers, he watched Keith tilt his head, watched a distressed frown grow. 

Knowing Keith was high did absolutely nothing to make this less weird. The look Keith was giving him now was quickly becoming the most pitiful thing Lance had ever seen. The bandage and the deep frown, how his hair fell into his eyes - and fuckin’ Keith and his stupid, stupid eyes. So much sadness in his eyes. He said, “What did I do?” and it sounded so confused when it should have been abrasive and challenging. 

Lance lowered his hands with a sigh, gesturing at Keith. “You can’t say shit like that,” he said. 

“Why not?” 

“ ‘Cause it’s - it’s just weird.” 

“But it’s true.”

All Lance could give to that was another strangled noise. He looked to Khattala for help, but she only smirked and stepped up to pat him hard on the shoulder. “He’s all yours,” she said. “Keep an eye on him until this wears off.”  

“And, uh, how long will that be?” Lance asked. Keith had sidled up beside him again, his uninjured arm wrapped around Lance’s waist. 

Khattala paused, looking at the two of them. “You know what,” she said slowly. “I’m honestly not sure. We’ve never had to use that strong of a medication on a human.”

Oh, good. He’d have his hands full with a high Keith for an undetermined amount of time, something he could honestly say he’d never expected. And apparently, Keith was a big fan of touching when he was doped out of his mind on alien painkillers. The arm around Lance’s waist had already been joined by one around his neck, Keith trying to pull himself close again. Lance kept his hands on Keith’s shoulders, pushing him back to a fair distance. 

“And you two,” Khattala said, looking past Lance to the twins. “Your fight starts in a varga. Don’t be late.” She was gone with one last amused glance at Keith, the door sliding shut behind her. 

Lance turned immediately, wrenching his eyes from Keith’s pitiful expression. He stared at the twins for a few seconds before saying,”Help.” 

The answer he got was a muffled trill of laughter from U’ilani and a wide grin from Y’skai. 

Keith had settled for taking Lance’s hand in his, weaving their fingers together. Still weird. That was contact Lance started - hell, practically all their contact was started by Lance. “Where is this?” he said. “It smells funny.” 

Slowly, Lance turned his head to frown at Keith. “Dude. This is their room.” 

Y’skai said, “That would be U’ilani.” He was still grinning, even when his sister smacked his shoulder. 

With a low hum, Keith nodded as if that explained everything. He was looking around at the room, eyes wide. As his gaze met Lance’s own, he smiled and it brightened his entire face, an entirely open and unguarded expression. Lance’s stomach flipped and he looked away from Keith to the twins again. “No, seriously, help me,” he said. “I don’t know what to do here. I’ve never had to deal with a high Keith before.” 

U’ilani spoke first. “I don’t think it should be that hard. He seems to be happy just being with you.” 

“Uh, okay, but that’s… uh.” He was going to say it wasn’t right, that Keith’s constant bickering and anger at him meant the opposite, but he was sure they were friends. At the very least, Keith enjoyed his company on some level. He trailed off and made a face, glancing back at his partner then back to the twins. “Okay, fine. Maybe he does, but - “

“You’re a great guy,” Keith said suddenly. “Why wouldn’t I like being with you?” 

The fierce blush that had drained from Lance’s face was starting up again. He threw Keith a look that was part glare, part frown. He was about to say the first thing that popped in his head - something rude and brush - 

But Y’skai muttered, “Sicai, that’s adorable.”

So Lance switched his look to Y’skai instead, flashing the alien the finger. He knew neither of the twins knew what it meant and somehow that made it better. Dealing with Keith saying things like that was bad enough on its own. He didn’t need the twins here to watch it happen. “Okay, y’know what. Keith, let’s go.” He started to turn back to the door, already tightening his hand around Keith’s. 

Instantly, the twins were saying they didn’t have to leave. “You can stay here as long as you wish,” U’ilani said. “I’m sure the two of you would enjoy some privacy.” 

It was appealing. There hadn’t been one moment since arriving here that they were given much privacy. The most Lance could think of was the few minutes they spent in the showers - and that didn’t really count for much, since aliens were in every stall and guards stood outside the doors. He hesitated, giving the twins’ room a quick glance. 

Then Keith was pulling away from him, striding forward. Lance hissed his name, watching. The (frankly unwanted) thought passed through his mind that, even when high out of his mind, Keith moved with confidence and purpose. 

Even when approaching a hammock that the twins slept in. 

Keith said, “What is this?” and didn’t even wait for an answer before he had gripped the edge of it with both hands. He grunted as he tried to pull himself up, then gave a pained noise, shaking out his left arm. The buckles on the brace caught the light. 

“That’s their bed, Keith,” Lance said, striding forward to pull him away. He grasped Keith by his uninjured hand and tugged it loose.

“It looks nice,” he said, frowning at Lance. “I want to lay in it.” A pause, where one of those unbridled smiles lit his face up again. “You should join me.” 

“We have our own bed,” Lance said. Never mind that their beds were in a room with maybe a hundred aliens.  

Keith was still smiling. “Yeah,” he said, the word releasing as a sigh. He took a breath, eyes burning into Lance, but before he could say anything else, two pairs of massive alien hands were locking on his waist. He blinked, the smile falling from his face. 

“No need to deny the boy a good rest,” Y’skai was saying. That broad, sharp-toothed grin was on his face, his hands gripping Keith tight as he lifted him up onto the hammock. “It  _ is _ pretty comfortable. You’re right about that.” 

Over by the couch, U’ilani’s trilling laugh was muffled by the helmet. 

Y’skai looked from Keith, who was laying down on his back, to Lance. “You need a lift too?” he asked.

Lance frowned, crossing his arms. “No.” He wasn’t going to climb on that thing anyway. 

The room was silent for all of two seconds, and then Keith called for Lance from amongst a pile of pillows and blankets. He had pushed himself up on his elbows and was staring at Lance, waiting for a response or for Lance to join him. Lance grumbled a curse, frowning at his feet, at Y’skai standing there and grinning at him. 

He was not getting up there.

Keith said, “Lance. Come here.” 

He shook his head. 

“Don’t be shy because of us,” U’ilani said. “Join your partner.”

“It’s the least you could do,” Y’skai added. “Since he is, ah… not himself. Make the boy happy.” 

He didn’t know what was worse: the twins clearly waiting for him to lay down with Keith, or that they thought he was shy about it. Half the time, he slept next to Keith and a good number of times, he woke up on those nights with the other boy in his arms. Not that anyone needed to know about that. 

With a frown still etched on his face, Lance took the step forward to grip the hammock and hoist himself up. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing - kind of the opposite, really. The fabric was sturdy, definitely not a sheet or blanket like the ones Lance and Keith had over their bunks. The blankets thrown onto the hammock were soft, the pillows a touch too firm but not bad. Lance lay on his back beside Keith, arms crossed loosely over his stomach. He refused to look at the other boy even though he could hear rustling as Keith moved. 

The ceiling of the twins’ room was dark, decorated by pinprick white spots. 

“You act like doing that was killing you,” Y’skai said. The hammock dipped a bit as he leaned his lower hands against it. 

Lance glanced at him, shrugging. “Maybe I didn’t wanna lay down,” he said.

“What were you going to do?” Y’skai asked.

He didn’t have an answer for that. Pretty sure he’d have ended up setting Keith on the bunk anyway. 

Beside him, Keith hummed a low, “Hey, Lance.” His fingers were moving down Lance’s arm, the touch almost too light to feel through the flightsuit. “Can we get a private room?”

Lance looked at him and immediately regretted it. Keith lay facing him; those stupid dark eyes, pupils too large, stared holes into him. The smile he wore was soft - everything about the look he gave was soft and open. 

Y’skai answered, which was good because Lance didn’t have an answer. “You’ll have to become champions,” he said.

Keith looked from Lance to the alien and nodded. “We can do that,” he said, completely serious. Then his eyes turned darker for an instant. “Oh. We’d be like Shiro.” He turned from Lance to stare at the ceiling, expression quickly turning to sadness.

It wasn’t something Lance was used to. If Keith was ever sad, he hid it behind anger, kept his face schooled into passive disinterest. The sight of him had Lance’s heart in his throat and he was reaching to grasp Keith’s uninjured hand in his own without noticing. “C’mon, Keith,” he said, “it’ll be okay.” 

He didn’t even know what Keith was sad about. Did he just really miss Shiro? Probably. They did seem pretty close and high Keith showed emotions very easily. Lance frowned at that thought, clutching Keith’s hand tighter because if high Keith was this sad, then how sad was Keith on a regular basis? How much did he miss Shiro? 

Likely as much as Lance missed Hunk, he guessed. 

He took a breath, looking over at Keith - the poor guy looked like he might cry. “Look, man,” Lance said. “I know you miss him, but - “

The last half of that was run over by Y’skai’s much louder, more commanding voice. “Who is Shiro?” 

Lance sighed. “He’s our friend.” 

At the same time, Keith said, so quiet Lance had to have been the only one to hear it: “He’s my brother.” 

Goddammit. “I didn’t know that,” Lance said, just as quiet. 

Keith finally looked back at him, and at least his dark eyes were dry. “He basically adopted me.”

Lance’s heart swelled. What the hell? That was both sad and adorable. He was gonna hug the fuck out of Keith for that… when they weren’t lying down on an alien hammock. 

Beside them, Y’skai gave a low hum. “I see,” he said. He paused for a moment. 

In the silence, Lance slid his fingers through Keith’s, rubbing his thumb along the others hand. 

“There are many people we have not seen in a long while,” Y’skai continued. “Friends, family. I even miss my enemies, like that annoying boy who used to tease me as a child.” At that, Lance looked back to him to see the alien standing with his lower arms poised on his hips, upper arms folded over his chest. “Sometimes I wonder what he’s up to, if he’s harassing anyone else.”

“The point this idiot is trying to make,” U’ilani spoke up, “is that we understand.” Footsteps started their way until she was standing beside her brother. “It gets easier, being here. Given time.” 

That wasn’t something Lance wanted to experience. The raw pain of being ripped from his friends was a reminder that there were people out there looking for them. That they hadn’t been gone so long that Voltron had forgotten them or moved on to different, better Paladins. He made a face at the twins, eyes flicking back to the white-specked ceiling. He stared at it for all of two seconds before Keith made a low whining sound and then Lance sighed, eyes closing. “Jesus, Keith,” he muttered. 

When he opened his eyes again, he had turned his head to look at Keith again. Just in time to watch the other boy shuffling closer to him, distress written in the furrow of his brow, the tension of his jaw and shoulders. Instinctively, Lance reached out with his free hand, setting it on Keith’s shoulder. If Keith didn’t stop looking like he was torn to pieces, Lance was going to squeeze him close just to hide his stupid face. 

The twins must have caught on to Keith’s reaction. U’ilani was speaking again, but it was a very different topic. “I have been wondering,” she said, “and I hope it’s not too strange to ask, but… when did you two meet?” 

Lance locked eyes with Keith, brow quirked. Why would that be strange? 

Keith answered first. “School,” he said. 

Sure that the twins would want more than that, Lance added, “Yeah, he didn’t even remember who I was when we met later.” He tossed the twins a smirk. “Helped him save Shiro, and all he had to say was ‘who are you’? We went to school together for years.” 

“And you forgot him?” Y’skai asked, his gaze zeroing in on Keith. “But you two are so …close.”

Keith pushed himself up on one elbow just to stare fiercely at the alien. “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I didn’t know anyone from school. I didn’t want to know them.”

“Not even Lance?” 

Lance rolled his eyes, already knowing where this was going.

“Especially not Lance,” Keith said. “He was annoying.”

Yep. There it was. 

Y’skai glanced at U’ilani, then back at the two of them. “Annoying?” 

Keith nodded sagely, lowering himself back into the pillows. “Once I realized who he was,” he said, “I was like ‘oh. This is that irritating cargo guy.’ Never shut up in class, never shut up in space.” 

Lance scoffed. “I barely talked to you in school! And - And I was only a cargo pilot for a year!” 

Keith looked at him with a smile. “I think they made a mistake then,” he said. “You’re much more than just a cargo pilot. Look what you fly now.” He raised a hand to gesture lazily at the ceiling. “Out in space. You’re amazing out there, Lance.” 

Was he supposed to respond to that? Lance wasn’t sure he could. Praise from Keith of all people - the person all their teachers said was the best pilot of their generation, the guy who threw insults and criticism at Lance for making small mistakes. He was pretty sure his throat had closed up. 

Luckily, the twins were throwing out questions at a rapid-fire rate. What kind of school did they go to? If Keith didn’t know him then, how did they actually meet? What was that about a rescue? When did they become friends? At some point between Keith’s answers, Lance had the thought that they might want him to answer instead. Everything Keith said was either half-explained as his train of thought switched tracks mid-sentence, or fractured and full of holes. But Lance just lay there on his back, staring at Keith and turning everything said to him over and over in his head. 

Until he had to move, anyway. 

U’ilani said, “How exactly did you two end up out here? Earth is quite far away.”

Keith replied, “Lance found the Blue li - “ The rest of his sentence was muffled against Lance’s palm, the words morphing into a confused noise. 

He had jolted forward as soon as the word ‘blue’ left Keith, slapping his hand over the other guy’s mouth to shut him up. He was hovering inches over Keith, bent at the waist, supported on his elbow. Keith stared up at him with wide, startled eyes - stupid, stupid dark eyes. He was still holding Keith’s hand tight. 

“Uhh, Lance found what?” Y’skai asked. 

Lance didn’t look away from Keith. “Doesn’t matter, not important.” He lowered his voice, speaking to Keith: “That’s a secret, dude. We don’t talk about it. Not here.” 

Nothing about Keith’s expression changed. He blinked twice. 

So Lance lowered himself down another inch. Keith’s eyes widened even more. “Voltron,” he hissed. “We don’t talk about it.” He could see the recognition flaring in Keith’s eyes and he pulled his hand back to set it on Keith’s shoulder again. “You got it?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.” His eyes were darting all over Lance’s face. “Sorry.”

Lance patted his shoulder. “It’s fine,” he said, leaning away. He settled back into the pillows, confident that, so long as Keith kept his mouth shut about the lions, there wouldn’t be any problems. The twins bypassing that whole whispered conversation entirely only helped solidify that in Lance’s mind. He let the aliens direct the conversation, giving Keith sharp looks when he started to veer too close to Voltron related territory. No mentions of lions or the colors of their ships, even when the topic of their friends came up. Lance told silly stories about Hunk from the Garrison and Pidge on board the Castleship; Keith told them the (fractured) story of Shiro’s disappearance. When it started to upset him, Lance pressed him for a happier detail about Shiro and what he got was: ”Once he complained over breakfast that a TV show’s theme song was stuck in his head for days. He said he hadn’t laid eyes on a TV in over a year and this was clearly some form of torture.” 

It was a brilliant tidbit about Shiro and Lance loved it. 

A goofy smile spread over Keith’s face when he talked. 

The two of them together talked about Coran and Allura, and how strange it was to meet aliens for the first time. Lance mentioned how beautiful Allura was and Keith said, “Coran’s mustache is better than she is.” And, really, who the hell would argue with that? That had Lance talking about Coran’s stories, about how the alien would make him clean parts of the ship and then tell these weirdly fascinating tales from his home planet. 

All the talk about their friends eventually had the twins mentioning theirs, and it only took a bit of prodding for Y’skai to start talking. Apparently, one of their old friends from when they were young had narrowly avoided an early death by something called a y’iurhall. The way Y’skai described it gave the image of a six-legged, ten-foot tall rabid wolf. It traveled in packs and ate any creature that got in its way. It sounded terrifying, so of course Y’skai said hunting the things was good fun and an honored tradition of his people. 

The story about his friend came complete with voice acting and dramatic reenactments of the near-death scene. At the end of it, U’ilani was politely clapping and Lance was stifling his laughter. Keith was draped over Lance by then, grinning at the twins from where his head rested on Lance’s shoulder. 

Not too long after that, a guard came to collect the twins. U’ilani said the two of them could stay there for a while, enjoy the privacy - nearly an exact repeat of what they had said earlier. Lance was gonna argue this time. It was comfortable in the hammock and Keith was lying on his arm and it was too much effort to move him. Quiet set in after the door slid shut behind the twins, and Lance shifted Keith, grimacing as he freed his arm. It was already tingly, and he frowned down at Keith’s shaggy hair as he shook it to get the feeling of needles out. 

Then Keith said, “I’m sorry, Lance,” against him and Lance blinked. 

“Uh… sorry for what?”

“The shit I said earlier.” Keith moved, his body pressing against Lance’s side. “About the knife and you.” 

Lance sighed, staring up at the ceiling. He laid his freed arm over his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“But - “

“Keith. It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.” 

He wasn’t wrong, but Lance wasn’t going to push this when Keith was doped up this much. “Tell me later,” he said instead. “Like, after you sleep, okay?” For a moment, he thought for sure that Keith would keep talking anyway. But he agreed and fell silent. After another minute or so of tracing lines between the white specks on the ceiling, Lance realized Keith had fallen asleep, curled against him. This was going to be awkward, he thought. 

And, right after that:  _ Oh. The white spots are stars.  _ Strange constellations from a foreign sky. Lance dozed off staring at them, not even aware of his eyes closing until a voice woke him. 

A guard, one of many that filtered through the halls. Nameless, face hidden behind the arena’s helmet. “Get up,” they said. They stood in front of the hammock, folded clothes in the crook of one arm. “You have to change, and I’ll need that suit back.” 

Lance blinked at them, then glanced down at Keith. At some point while they had slept, Keith had laid his head on Lance’s chest and wrapped an arm around him. The heavy brace pressed against Lance’s side. He looked back at the guard, half-awake and trying to figure out how long he’d been asleep. Not that long; the twins weren’t back yet. 

“Get up,” the guard repeated. “I don’t care about your partner. I have better things to do than wait on you.” 

Sighing, Lance pushed against Keith until the other boy moved. Keith groaned as he pulled away from Lance, yawning deeply and rolling over into the pillows and blankets surrounding them. Made it easy for Lance to slide off the hammock, though he missed the comfort of it as soon as his feet hit the ground. The guard stood in place as Lance toed off his boots and set to pulling the flightsuit off. He didn’t know if they were watching him and he didn’t really care if they were. The second he held the suit out to them, they took it with one hand and shoved the clothes at him with the other. Before he had even looked at them, the guard was turning back to the door. 

Just before they passed the threshold, they said, “And get out of this room. It’s not yours.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, throwing the shirt on the hammock while he pulled the pants on. He could ignore the guard - and he really wanted to. There wasn’t a damn thing stopping him from climbing back in there and going back to sleep. The twins allowed it, Khattala clearly didn’t give a damn when she was in here, so who was some random asshole to tell him otherwise?

Then his stomach growled and the pangs made themselves known. He frowned, shirt in one hand, and threw a look at Keith. 

Seconds passed. His stomach growled again, louder, and he made a face. Okay, he’d need dinner, but maybe he could leave Keith here for a bit. The guy was so deeply asleep Lance could probably put on a full one man show and he wouldn’t wake up. Invite every alien in for a party and Keith could sleep through it. It was a perfect idea.

So of course he was dragging Keith out of the hammock in less than a minute. If he was hungry, he could only imagine Keith was too. 

Keith whined and groaned about it, clinging to a pillow until Lance pulled it from him and tossed it back. “I don’t want to,” he said. It was more of a whine than anything, the pout on his face made worse by how tired he looked. “Can’t you leave me here?” 

Lance was not going to admit to having that very thought. “You need food,” he said, taking Keith’s uninjured hand and starting out of the room. “Let’s get dinner and then you can go back to sleep.” In their bunk. He wasn’t going to endure the twins’ reactions to finding them sleeping side by side like that. He tugged on Keith’s hand until the other was walking beside him. It wasn’t a long walk, just down the hall to the cafeteria, yet Keith grumbled under his breath and yawned at least three times.

In the cafeteria, Lance sat him down at an empty table. Dinner was on, but it looked like they were early for it. The moment his hands left Keith, the guy tilted his head, eyes wide and suddenly alert. “Where’re you going?” he asked. 

Lance paused two steps from him. “I’m gonna get us food,” he said. 

Keith blinked slowly. “Okay.”

“Wait here.”

Keith nodded.

Damn, he was agreeable like this. Lance walked away, throwing a look over his shoulder just in time to spot Keith trying to squeeze a finger under the bandages wrapped around his head. For a second, Lance just watched him but then Khattala’s voice explode into his head, orders about how to care for Keith when he was like this. Specifically, the one to stop him from messing with that bandage. Lance turned back, rushed over and yanked his hand away - and then Keith was lacing their fingers together and smiling up at him with this ridiculously soft look. Lance made a face, pulled his hand free, and stalked off again. 

At the line, he craned his neck to peer around aliens and get a look at Keith. He was sitting at the table, staring at the brace on his left arm. Lance sighed; at least he wasn’t poking at his injuries. 

He could only get one tray at a time. The alien chef fixed up both of them and sent Lance away with one - he dropped it in front of Keith, told him he’d be right back, and then sped over for his own food. Both glasses of water were perched on his tray. 

He hadn’t even sat down when Keith said, “Hey, Lance.” The tone of his voice had Lance freezing with his hands on the table. He glanced over to meet Keith’s eyes and sighed - stupid dark eyes turned his way with bright happiness pouring out of them. Christ. “I was waiting for you,” Keith continued. 

Lance rolled his eyes, sliding into a seat. “I know,” he said. “I told you to.”

Keith was practically beaming at him. He had the alien utensil in a mess of odd vegetables - or something like veggies - but wasn’t eating just yet. “I miss you sometimes,” he said. “When we’re not together.” 

Lance stuffed his mouth full just to avoid speaking. He hadn’t thought about Keith talking to him, just expected him to eat and shuffle off to bed like he usually did. But usually, Keith wasn’t high on alien painkillers. 

“We should hang out more,” Keith said. 

Really, Lance should have expected this. Keith had spent over an hour talking to the twins, after all. “We already hang out,” he said. “Pretty much all the time, man.” 

Keith shook his head. The smile hadn’t left his face. “I mean, like… everywhere,” he said. “We should - like on the Castle. At home.” A pause, and his smile flared up again. “Let’s explore the universe together, Lance.” 

Lance sighed, shoveling more food in his mouth. They kind of already were, just with three other pilots and a pair of weird aliens. While he ate, Keith kept talking. He mentioned Earth and other planets they had been to, small little memories. He also talked about the food they were eating and that one alien who looked “like a chipmunk” over in the line, and why Lance hated Celery - did he mean the alien or the food? - because Celery wasn’t that bad. Lance was kind of tuning him out. Chatty Keith was strange. 

But then Keith’s chatter stopped. The silence had Lance looking over at him to see what his deal was now - and he was lunging over the table in a split second. He pulled Keith’s hands from his bandaged head once again, saying, “Jeez, dude! Stop that!”

Keith met his eyes. In a serious tone that had been directed at him dozens of times - in missions, practice, in arguments, whatever - Keith said, “You have really pretty skin.”

Lance blinked at him. “What?”

“It’s so nice,” Keith said. He took Lance’s hand in his, turning it over in his palm. Two fingers of his injured arm starting running up the inside of Lance’s elbow and Lance was flushing from the start. What the hell was this? “So soft.” Keith was smiling, soft and small. His head was tilted down, eyes tracking his own fingers as he traced lines up Lance’s arm. “It’s just… nice.” He murmured that same thing for a few seconds - just ‘nice’ and ‘soft’ and, once, that the tone of it was nice too. And then he was looking at Lance through his eyelashes and the bangs in his face with that damn smile and - 

Aw, that was cute. 

But it was Keith. 

What the fuck.

Lance yanked his arm away in a flash. Keith’s hand hit the table with a smack, bewilderment banishing the smile off his face. “Eat your food,” Lance barked, turning his gaze onto his own nearly-empty tray. Across the table, Keith gave a small ‘sorry’ that Lance wanted to ignore but couldn’t. He said, “Don’t worry about it. Eat,” but refused to look over again and meet that stupid gaze again. 

Stupid high Keith. 

He shoved the last bit of meat in his mouth with a grunt, thinking that he couldn’t wait for this to wear off. At least normal Keith didn’t say weird things and look at Lance like that. 

✦✦✦✦✦

In the middle of the night, Lance jolted awake as something slammed into the floor closeby. In the dark, hushed voices snapped at one another. He ignored it, shifting on the bunk next to Keith. The other boy had insisted that Lance lay down with him earlier, and Lance didn’t see a reason to leave once he was there. It wasn’t much of a surprise that his arm was slung over Keith’s waist again.

A quiet part of his mind said he should move, like he always did, but he was tired and Keith was warm. He was asleep again within seconds. 

When he awoke again, it was much later. The lights were on in the barracks, shining through his eyelids. The familiar voices of the twins, whispering to one another, was what had woken him. Though he couldn’t understand what they said, words too quiet, the present noise had persisted through his dreams until he realized what it was. 

Didn’t mean he had to get up. He lay there, eyes closed, arm around Keith, and listened to a trill of laughter from one of them. 

It took an embarrassingly long seconds for it to sink in. He was lying here, cuddled up to Keith, and the twins were there to see it. He cracked his eyes open and squinted in the light and seeing just how close he and Keith were now. It made his stomach churn and his heart jump into his throat. At some point in the night, Keith had shifted closer to him, rolled over so that his head rested on Lance’s arm. He was close enough that his breath was hot against Lance’s throat, close enough that their legs were tangled together. The braced hand was lying softly on Lance’s chest, Keith’s other hand holding onto his shirt. 

Lying there, Lance fought back the heat in his face and cursed high Keith’s weird touchiness. Slowly, he eased his arms from Keith, wincing as the arm under his head came back numb from the elbow down. 

The twins had noticed him moving by now, Y’skai calling his name in that overly loud voice. “Did you have a nice night?” he asked.

When Lance glanced over, he swore the alien was smirking. “It was okay,” he muttered, shaking his arm. “But now my whole arm is numb.” He shot Keith’s still sleeping form a tired glare. “Stupid Keith. Couldn’t stay on his side.” 

Never mind that Lance was likely the one who had pulled Keith closer. Sleep cuddling tendencies were awful sometimes. 

“You didn’t look like you minded,” U’ilani said. 

Lance turned to her, frowning. “I was asleep, of course I didn’t mind.” But now he was awake and his arm was tingling, his stomach was rumbling, and the twins’ looked like they were sharing some secret joke. “What are you two doing here?” 

“We volunteered to wake you two,” U’ilani said. 

“Keith got drawn for an early fight,” Y’skai added. “Avilus wanted to barge in here himself, but we came instead.” 

At the mention of Keith fighting, Lance’s stomach dropped. He’d been prodding his arm with a deep frown but looked up at the twins with wide eyes. “Woah, wait. They’re making him fight?” He looked to Keith, still asleep and still bandaged, hurt, in need of rest. “You can’t be serious.” 

Neither twin was smiling anymore when he looked back to them. “Of course they are,” Y’skai said, his loud voice low. “It’s the tournament.”

“But he’s hurt.” All the twins did was exchange looks, U’ilani drawing her lower arms around herself. The lack of response was enough to anger Lance but that was nothing when his gut was a storm of worry and panic. Keith couldn’t fight, that was impossible. Not right now. “He - he broke his arm!” he said, rising from the bed. He gestured at Keith as his voice rose: “He got hit hard enough to break a bone through our armor! He was bleeding!”

The bunk beside them was empty, but an alien across the room looked over.

Y’skai laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lance. He doesn’t have a choice. They’ll make him fight, or else - “ He paused, all four eyes closing, one set of eyelids after the other, before snapping open again. “The point is, my friend, he must fight or he’ll suffer worse.” 

Lance wanted to argue that, but then he was thinking about the beating he’d gotten from Avilus. He pictured Keith, with a healing arm and a head wound, having to endure that or something worse, and his stomach churned so suddenly he felt sick. The distress must’ve shown on his face. Y’skai squeezed his shoulder lightly, speaking quietly. 

“I know you don’t want him to hurt,” Y’skai said. “If we could, we would stand with you and request more time for him to heal. But we can’t. You can’t.” 

“I know that,” Lance muttered. “I just…” He trailed off with a groan, stepping back from Y’skai’s hand. “This is stupid.” The arena was stupid, Avilus was stupid, Keith was stupid for breaking his arm in the first place, and Lance himself was stupid for missing the shot that could’ve stopped it from happening. 

“There is always something happening during the tournaments,” U’ilani chimed in. “And it’s always bad.” 

Lance glanced her way. She was headed around the bunks to where Keith was laying and Lance jolted back to the bed to stop her. “Don’t,” he said to her. “Don’t wake him.” Those four bright eyes turned on him, U’ilani cocking her head to the side. She said nothing, but the question was there anyway: Why not? Lance sat down beside Keith again, gaze falling onto the sleeping boy. He said, “I’ll wake him up.”

This way, he could take a moment to calm himself down. Lance imagine that, for Keith, waking up in pain and with a pair of aliens staring down at him would put him on edge. Have him defensive and snarly immediately after waking, leave him in a rotten mood all day. Throw Lance’s clear worry on top of all that, and Keith would be insufferable and they’d argue and fight (again)... It’d be a huge mess. So Lance sat there, ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He took deep breaths in until his worry and anxiety was pushed back, buried back to a manageable level. 

He’d been doing this for weeks now. Keep the negativity down so Keith would be more at ease. 

It only took a few seconds, then Lance reached over to give Keith a light shake. All he got in return was a small grunt. “C’mon, Keith,” he said, shaking him again. “Get up, dude.” 

Keith mumbled something indecipherable, opening his eyes enough to send a tired glare. “What?” 

“Time to get up,” Lance said, pulling back. He flicked his eyes over Keith’s face - the bandage had shifted in his sleep, hair falling messily into his eyes. He gave Keith a look meant to be judgemental but probably failed. “You gonna lay in bed all day?”

“Maybe.” Keith closed his eyes for a second before looking at Lance and then past him, to the twins. He sighed, raising his hand to rub at his eyes - and then he made a face, the brace connecting with his nose. “Ugh. Fuck,” he said, pulling his hand away to frown at it. “What the hell…?”

Lance was still watching him. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s a thing.” 

What Keith said next was so quiet, Lance almost missed it. He was pretty sure it was something like, “Thought it was a dream,” but it didn’t matter. Keith was sitting up now, stretching. He made to pull his arms behind his head and stopped with a jerk, a curse, and then snatched his braced hand to his chest. Instantly, Lance had a hand on him again, tight around his uninjured arm. Keith shot him a look that was half asleep still. “I’m fine,” he said. “It just hurts like hell.” 

That was when the twins made themselves known again, Y’skai leaning over the two of them and saying, “You did break your arm.” 

Near the end of the bunk, U’ilani motioned with one lower hand to the barracks door. “Now that you’re both awake, we really should be going.” 

Keith looked at them, then at Lance, then back to U’ilani. “Where are we going exactly?” He lowered his injured hand to his lap slowly, glancing at Lance. “Does it have anything to do with why Lance looks like he ate something bad?” 

Damn, and he thought he had done such a good job of hiding it. He forced a smile to his face, waving a hand at Keith. “Ha, what? I’m good, dude. No problems here.” 

The skeptical look from Keith was enough on its own. 

Just like they had with Lance, the twins told Keith he was fighting early today. The solo tournament had started and neither the guards nor the slave owners cared if any combatant had been previously injured. As they spoke, Keith’s eyes darkened, face schooling into cold focus - the sort of look he got before charging into a dangerous mission. “Who am I fighting?” he asked, voice low, dangerous. 

The twins exchanged a quick glance. “We have no way of knowing,” U’ilani answered. “It is likely to be someone outside of Zeta, though. New fighters typically get those, especially ones new to fighting on their own.” 

Keith nodded. “Okay,” he said. He was standing from the bed before Lance could even move, all his attention on the twins. “I can win that.” He sounded confident, but of course he did because he was Keith and Keith was an  _ idiot  _ \- 

“Don’t hurt yourself trying,” Y’skai said to him. “No shame in losing in these tournaments, you know.”

Keith scoffed, crossing his arms - injured arm on top. “I’m not gonna lose.” 

On the bed, Lance dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Keith was a moron. Keith was going to take on whoever they put him against without caring that he had a healing limb and a head injury. Keith was going to get himself hurt worse and Lance was just gonna have to sit here and deal with it. 

Unbelievable. 

He listened to U’ilani telling Keith she was going to take him to the medics - “Time to remove that bandage,” she said - and then he was going to go prepare for the fight. Lance looked up as footsteps started away, just in time to catch Keith looking back at him. Lance looked away immediately, eyes seeking Y’skai instead. He said, loudly, “So what’re we doing then?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Keith turn away again. 

Y’skai took a moment to hum lowly, then suggested breakfast. An easy agreement there. Lance could do with some food, and maybe he could talk with his friend about something other than Keith. If he thought any longer on Keith and his injuries, he was liable to explode. It was hard enough to ignore the growing pit of worry. 

As it turned out, Y’skai wanted to talk more about the friends and family he had left behind, and Lance wasn’t about to tell him no. That little slice of a story the alien had told the day before was expanded on as Y’skai went into the whole reason the guy had been out there with those beasts. From there, he spoke of his cousins and his other siblings - all younger. “U’ilani and I are the eldest,” he said, “of eight.” He said they were slated to join what was essentially the equivalent of the military. That, or space flight. They hadn’t decided yet when they had been snatched away. 

It wasn’t a cheerful breakfast, but it wasn’t too bad either. Y’skai’s stories took Lance’s mind off of things for a bit. But then Y’skai left him outside the cafeteria, said he had to go change into his armor for the day. A guard sprang up out of nowhere to escort Lance off to do the same. The door to the stairwell shut behind him and, with every step he climbed, Lance was hit with another pang of anxiety and worry. Just the same thing running through his head.

Out here, they didn’t have a pod to heal them. There wasn’t any amazing alien technology that would fix their wounds or caring doctors to make sure injuries healed correctly. 

In Zeta, they barely had anything. 

The still-image memory of Keith, face contorted in pain as an alien broke his arm, hung over him. 

Lance redressed in his flightsuit, suiting up in the armor in silence. Keith’s armor was already missing from the crate and Lance tried and failed not to think about it. He was sitting in the lounge by the time the twins joined him, each of them taking a seat to either side of him. Lance’s helmet sat on the floor by his feet, his arms crossed over himself. The twins wore their frightening suits of armor, hiding their faces. 

Lance didn’t really feel like talking; he was too busy running over the various ways Keith could hurt himself worse.

Which, of course, meant the twins would talk, try to comfort him. 

“He seemed very confident about it,” U’ilani said. 

“He’s always confident.” He drew his eyes from the floor to gaze at the ceiling with a sigh. “Keith thinks he can do anything - probably cause he usually can, the jerk - but it’s like he doesn’t know when to stop.” 

“Did he stop yesterday?” U’ilani asked.

Lance cast a quizzical look her way.

It was Y’skai who continued. “When his arm was broken.” 

After a pause, Lance said, “Well, yeah, but - “ -by then it had been too late. 

“Then I’m sure he’ll stop today if it gets too bad,” Y’skai said. He used the arm around Lance’s shoulders to give him a little shake. 

Lance made a face, his eyes on the ceiling again. “Maybe,” he said. “It’d be, like, the first time, though. Usually, someone’s there to help him.” They rarely sent a Paladin out on their own. If Shiro wasn’t there to reign Keith’s headstrong impulses back, then someone else was. Someone who could compliment him and help him when he needed it. Lance thought about that and huffed a humorless laugh. “Guess that’s supposed to be me while we’re here.” 

And he’d already failed at it. 

He was still sitting there when the first fights ended. Still sitting with the twins to either side of him when he caught sight of the familiar armor and jolted up from his seat. He nearly tripped over his own helmet in his haste to get to the lounge door, swinging out from it with one hand latched onto the doorframe. Keith was headed toward the stairwell when Lance called out to him. 

Keith froze, turning. His face was flushed under the helmet - from fighting no doubt - but his eyes were bright as he headed toward Lance instead. A smirk sprang to life. “Hey,” he said, “I said I’d win, didn’t I?” 

Lance grinned. “Never said you wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t have to,” Keith said. He held his injured hand close to his body and Lance wondered if it was hurting him too much right now. “I’m not an idiot, Lance. You looked like you were gonna be sick back there. Think I can’t handle myself?” 

He was still smirking so it wasn’t a real jab, not an invitation to fight or argue or anything. Still, it hit Lance and he took a step back, leaning against the door to the lounge rather than hanging off its’ frame. “I know you can fight,” he said, “but you’re hurt.” 

The answer was immediate. “It’s fine.”

“Keith…” 

That smirk fell from Keith’s face in an instant. “I can handle it,” he said. His voice dared Lance to argue. 

For once, Lance didn’t take the bait. He remained quiet, glancing behind him into the lounge to the twins - they were talking to one another now - and then back to Keith standing before him. “Yeah, okay. You won,” he said. “You want a medal or something?” 

Keith considered him for a moment, then reached up to pull the helmet off. As always, his hair was a mess. “Actually, I want a drink.” 

He could have predicted that. “They should have water on hand for us after these fights,” Lance said. He leaned over and pushed his hands into Keith’s hair without asking. The startled look on the guy’s face had him choking back a laugh. “Calm down,, man. Just fixing you up.” 

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” Keith said. His face was turning red. 

Lance said, “It’s either I fix your dumb mullet or you look like something made a nest out of it.” He couldn’t feel much through the flightsuit’s gloves, but he could see what he was doing, could detangle the mess of hair. 

“It can’t look that bad.”

“Can so.” He scraped his fingers over Keith’s scalp, just to double check that there were no hidden injuries or anything. Keith drew in a sharp breath when he did, but he ignored it to push the bangs out of Keith’s eyes and grin at him. “Hey, if you pinned all this back, you kinda look like a regular person.” 

Keith was really red. Just like the last time Lance had done this. “As opposed to what?”

“A mysterious mulletman.” 

Sighing, Keith rolled his eyes and pulled away. “Of course,” he said, turning toward the stairs. “I expect nothing else from you.” He continued down the hall without another word and Lance was at his side in seconds. He followed Keith downstairs, striking up some ridiculous conversation about staging a coup and taking over the entire space station. As they headed back to the lounge, Lance shoved today’s fight to the back of his mind. He’d likely lose his, being too preoccupied to even think about firing a gun. 

As for the fact that Keith was still in the tournament and would have to fight again, well… he’d just ignore that for now.

✦✦✦✦✦

The past few days had been incredibly eventful. First, there was the way they had been kicked out of the duo tournaments - Keith was pretty sure that alien had broken his arm in two separate places, but the details were murky now. He could recall the pain of it easily, as well as watching Lance hit the ground hard. He couldn’t remember being hit across the head, but the fading scratch and Lance’s story of a bandage and a bleeding head wound said enough. Seemed a lot of that fight had faded into a murky mess. 

He wished he could say the same for everything he’d said while high on powerful medication. It came to him in little bursts, flashes of realization that yes, actually, he had said that. To Lance. He knew he’d said things about Lance having nice skin - he had remembered that while preparing for his initial solo fight and had wanted to slam his face into the wall - as well as how he liked Lance’s hugs. And he’d said something about being with him? Exploring planets? God, it was endless and embarrassing. 

When Lance stood in front of him, easy-going smile on his face and hands in his hair, Keith remembered nuzzling the guy’s neck and wanted to die right there. 

And he couldn’t even look forward to fighting to take his mind off of it. His arm was killing him every time he struck forward with the sword, heavy blasts of pain that distracted him. He was performing badly, leaving too many openings, and should have been out in the first fight. But he grit his teeth against it and managed to pull off three wins that day. 

By the last one, he didn’t think he could get the armor off because it hurt that bad. Whatever had been done to heal the break in his bone did nothing at all for the pain left behind in the muscles. Keith resorted to asking Lance, through gritted teeth, to help him out and found himself seated on the armor crate in the training room, watching Lance’s fingers unbuckle the armor over his arm. 

Lance had lost his very first fight, had already changed out of the flightsuit and Paladin armor. He hadn’t said anything about the loss, just shrugged it off and set to following Keith around the arena. “How bad is it?” he asked. He was crouched down by Keith, one arm resting across Keith’s thigh. 

Keith thought for a second about lying - but then Lance’s fingers snapped the armor loose and he hissed. “Bad,” he said. 

Lance mumbled something that Keith didn’t catch, something that sounded an awful lot like Spanish. He pulled the armor off carefully, his fingers just barely skating over the flightsuit. Even that hurt, spikes of pain that dug deep. Lance just sat there, looking at Keith’s arm and then up at him with a frown. “Keith,” he said, “where’s the brace?”

Keith frowned back at him. “I took it off,” he said. “The armor wouldn’t fit right over it. Does it matter?”

“Does it matter?” Lance repeated. He shook his head and stood, reaching out with one hand to give Keith a light shove. “Yes, it matters! No wonder you’re in so much pain. Where’d you put it?” He was casting glances around the room like it had been thrown onto the floor.

“It’s in the crate.” Keith stood as he spoke, narrowly avoiding Lance trying to shove him again. The second he was off the thing, Lance was popping it open and digging inside. He put his own armor aside, cursing. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a brace.” 

“Khattala said you have to wear it for days,” Lance said. He paused to ask himself how he hadn’t seen it when he was in here earlier and then yanked the black brace out from underneath his own chest piece. Then, his eyes back on Keith, he continued. “I didn’t ask why, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with the bone healing right. And maybe not causing you so much damn pain.” 

“You never said that.” 

He was at Keith’s side in an instant, the brace held in the crook of his arm while he took hold of Keith’s injured arm - carefully, so so careful. “Not like that’s the first thing I think of when I wake up,” he said. He was easing fingers under the flightsuit, along the seam that separated the glove from the rest of it. His touch was warm but when he started to pull it from Keith’s skin, the pain started up again. “I don’t usually ask myself, y’know, ‘hey, what’s Keith gonna do today? Hope it’s not taking off a medical brace!’ “ 

Keith winced, fingers twitching and making it hurt even more. “Well. I’m so sorry for the trouble, Lance.” 

“Would’ve been easier,” Lance said, “if you were listening when she was talking. Then I wouldn’t have to be responsible for you right now.” He shot Keith a brief stern look, and then went right back to pulling the glove off. He dropped it to the ground, maneuvering Keith’s arm for the brace. At Keith’s sharp inhale, he glanced up again and just looked worried. “Hey, man… Sorry about this. It might hurt.” 

Keith raised his eyebrows. Course it would hurt. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked. 

Lance shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a brace with some buckles. Can’t be that hard.” He slid it over Keith’s arm and the fabric scratched at his skin. 

He immediately missed Lance’s touch and then, right with that thought, remembered tracing lines up Lance’s arm over the cafeteria table. Heat flushed his face in seconds. 

Fuckin’ hell. 

Lance didn’t notice, too focused on buckling up the brace. He said, “Tell me if it’s too tight,” and Keith hummed in response. He didn’t really want to speak - what if it drew Lance’s attention? What if Lance asked why he was blushing so much? What the hell would Keith even say to that?

_ ‘Just remembering how much I like to touch you’? _ Fuck. That’d sound so creepy. 

Everything he said yesterday should have sounded creepy, but all Keith could remember was Lance occasionally looking uncomfortable. He considered that while Lance snapped the last few buckles into place and came to one conclusion: Lance was too nice to tell Keith he was being a creep. And for some reason, that idea left a sour taste in Keith’s mouth. 

“Alright, there you go.” Lance’s voice snapped Keith out of his head and he found himself looking at bright eyes as Lance smiled at him. “Brace on. You gonna need my help with the rest of it?” 

It took two seconds too long for that to make sense to Keith. He looked at his arm, now concealed by the brace, and then down at the rest of the armor. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Uh, maybe. If it’s not too much.” 

Lance chuckled. “Not a problem, man.” He took two steps to Keith’s other arm to start on those pieces. Their eyes locked and he added, “You’re taking off everything from the waist down, though. We’re not that close.” 

Keith flushed even more. “Jesus! Lance!”

All Lance did was laugh, dropping his eyes to the armor again. “Just sayin’.”

“You didn’t have to.” 

Lance was still laughing. It was quiet, but it wormed into Keith’s head and set small fires in his gut. He looked away as Lance set to his task. The warmth was something he had given up on weeks ago - this kind of reaction was just going to happen around Lance no matter much Keith fought it. The sour sting to it, though, that was new. A bitter disappointment echoing the flames, and all because Lance didn’t like Keith complimenting him. What the hell was the big deal? 

He turned it over in his head while he and Lance removed his chest piece, frowning at his own legs while he undid that armor. Lance was in the room the whole time, pacing circles around where Keith stood, carrying on a conversation that Keith hardly contributed to. 

As they were packing the armor up, Lance said, “What’s up? You’re more broody than usual.” 

Keith shot him a weak glare. “I am not brooding.” 

“You totally are,” Lance said. He poked Keith in the forehead with one finger, smiling at Keith’s answering frown. “You look like you wanna kill someone, you aren’t talking much, and you haven’t told me to shut up once. Or insulted me, or told a bad joke… Face it, Keith. You’re brooding.” 

He rolled his eyes, shoving the armor in with more force than necessary. “Whatever, Lance.” 

The smile melted off Lance’s face but by the time they stood, it was back and brighter than before. “Hey, Keith,” he said. “You want a hug?” 

Keith stared at him. “What? No.” 

“You sure?” Lance was trying not to laugh, arms raised at his sides. “ ‘Cause I remember you saying you liked my hugs.” 

Seconds passed. Keith was frozen in place, eyes wide and face burning, and Lance had broken into a fit of giggles, muffled behind a hand he’d slapped over his mouth. Keith hadn’t remembered that, not until Lance said it, and now he was mortified. “Why,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper, “would you bring that up?”

Still laughing, Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Awh, I thought it was funny. You, all awkward and shit when you get a hug, but you like it. Mister Broody Emo Mullet likes hugs.” 

“Don’t call me that.” It was reflex to say it, even as Keith turned on his heel to start for the door. 

Lance’s laughter died down behind him and before he reached the door, Lance was speaking again. “I was serious, y’know.” When Keith turned to face him, he was looking at the floor, hands in the pockets of his pants. “You’re not gonna talk about what’s bothering you, and that’s fine, but, uh.. I dunno, man. Hugs are nice sometimes.” 

Keith was one step to the door but he stood there and looked at Lance. With the confusing way he was feeling, the twisted up emotions all springing from Lance, he should say no and get out of here. Some traitorous part of his mind was saying that Lance already knew he liked hugs, that people rarely offered to hug him. That it was Lance, warm and comforting, waiting for Keith’s answer. 

He couldn’t really be blamed for nodding, for walking stiffly back to Lance, stepping up to the other. Lance’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. Just like the last time this had happened, Keith ignored his pounding heart. Unlike any time anyone had hugged him before, Keith leaned into it and rested his head against Lance, breathing in the other boy’s scent. 

Then Lance, in his typical manner, said, “High Keith was much better at returning hugs.” 

Keith growled an insult but shifted his arms anyway. He held onto Lance tighter and the squeeze he got in response made his heart skip. 

Goddammit. 

There, in a dirty training room in a gladiator arena, Keith let the reality sink in. The one thing he hadn’t wanted to admit to was happening. Lance was an idiot, and Keith kind of liked him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chpt:  
> \- keith realizes some pretty important things  
> \- lance is an idiot, but he means well  
> \- actually pidge (promise!) with hunk. team punk things.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how i hacked the universe: a novel by pidge,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gift: what i [listen to while writing](https://open.spotify.com/user/72j6mo5a0l7rdcgmhlps8y9kh/playlist/5ItENv5ULAJhSbZFfE9hZ0?si=g7LJjpV2QSaTwjEejtIQXw)  
> please enjoy. (:
> 
> and yes, that's my way of apologizing for taking a week longer to update than i meant to. sorry!

Forty days had passed. Well - forty-one, now. Pidge eyed the clock on her laptop, watching as the time ticked over and started over with a new hour, a new day. She had been working in her room for the past week, left alone for the most part once she told the others what she was up to. From what she learned from Hunk (who dropped off meals for her), Allura and Coran were still digging for places to check for leads while Shiro helped Allura sort through distress calls for Voltron. 

A couple days earlier, Hunk had said, “I think we’re gonna have to go help them. Those calls just keep coming in, and Allura’s really stressed about it.” 

Pidge had given him a disbelieving look, made all the worse by the heavy bags under her eyes. “They can wait,” she’d said. 

Hunk hadn’t said anything else about going out for calls since then. But he would soon. Or Shiro would. Whenever it happened, Pidge would weasel out of it somehow because this was far more important. Some distant planet or colony somewhere could manage just fine, just like they had for the ten thousand years prior to Voltron’s reappearance. There wasn’t much three lions could do on their own anyway, not if these calls were about the Galra. A bit of a harsh way to think, maybe, but Pidge was not going to abandon her work or her friends. 

The laptop in front of her displayed a running program, something she was tweaking and working over until its’ parameters were perfect. It was similar to the one she had worked on to find Matt and her father, except for the big fact that that program had been designed with Galra tech in mind. It had been easy, relatively speaking, to make a search program for technology they already had lots of experience with. With this one, she had no way of knowing what had taken them. No clues about a species or a location, nothing. 

So, she worked off of her finished program and consulted old Altean tech until she had something that would, hopefully, work like she intended. Something that would work to hunt down whoever stole the missing Paladins, that would track the smallest hints of them - their armor, their faces, anything. Now that it was done, all she needed was somewhere to plug it in.

The opportunity presented itself three quintants later. The Castle had just arrived at yet another seedy, pirate filled, dirty space station. This one, like others, was located outside of Galra space. It orbited a deep red gas giant that was the furthest planet of a system orbiting a dying star. Supposedly, the distant star had once been a wonder to behold before it began its slow and inevitable decay. Now, however, huge shutters were locked over any viewports and the whole station was dim and dreary. There were loose wires hanging from the ceiling in far too many places, missing panels in the walls that revealed piping and ventwork, and more creepy aliens than Pidge had ever thought would be in one place. She stood at the exit of the airlock with Shiro and Allura, nose scrunched up because on top of all that - it smelled.

The station itself reeked with the scent of meat gone bad and raw eggs. 

Beside her, Allura muttered, “Why would Coran send us here?” 

On Pidge’s other side, Shiro sighed. “Well… It does look like the kind of place someone might go if they abducted two Paladins..” 

None of them had worn disguises. Hadn’t seen any need to, since this wasn’t Galra operated space. But Pidge was sorely wishing she had argued for the Paladin uniforms because then the helmet would have stopped the stink. As it was, she stood there and slapped a sleeve-covered hand over her nose. “Can we make this quick?” Her voice was muffled. “Or - or!” She paused, sending Shiro a narrow-eyed look. “Can’t you and Allura take care of this one? I’ll go back on the Castle and help Coran and Hunk. I’m sure they need me for something.” 

Shiro’s hand was on her shoulder immediately. “Nice try,” he said, “but you’ve been hiding in the Castle for the last few trips. It’s your turn to help.” 

Pidge frowned. “I have been helping,” she snapped. “I made this program, and - “

“Why don’t you tell us on the way?” Allura said. She was sending nervous glances to a pair of scaly aliens standing nearby. “I’m sure it’s fascinating, but I’d rather not be standing here any longer.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Shiro steered Pidge away, his hand tightening on her shoulder. She would have said something about it, but after a glance at the seedy aliens in question, she decided she didn’t mind the little bit of protectiveness. 

Didn’t stop her from muttering, “On the way to where exactly?” 

Allura either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore it. “We should look for a market first,” she said. “Someplace where there are a lot of people to talk with. The more we talk to, the more we can find out.” 

Neither Pidge nor Shiro objected. Pidge walked with her hands over her nose and pretended she didn’t notice how Allura was struggling to keep her face calm in the wake of stench and creepy aliens. Shiro’s hand was still tight on her shoulder; she glanced at him to see him glaring at an alien who was watching them. That alien looked surprisingly like an alligator on two legs, complete with a large tail and sharp teeth in its elongated snout. It also had six eyes and a rifle on its back. Standard issue for this kind of place. 

More like it filled the station everywhere Pidge looked. Almost every alien had a dangerous weapon in plain sight, and the ones that didn’t were likely concealing theirs. It made sense - even the three of them came prepared. Shiro, of course, had the Galra arm; Allura was strong enough on her own but she had still strapped her staff to her back; as for Pidge, she had stuffed her bayard into her sweatshirts’ pocket. The weight of it was comforting, shifting against her stomach with each step. She hoped she didn’t have to use it. 

They found a market fairly easy. Despite having skipped the last few stops, Pidge had now been to enough space stations to get the basic idea of them. There was typically a large open space not too far from the airlock, and most of the time, it’d be filled with shops and stalls, thriving with life, the air filled with different aliens bellowing about products. From there, different roads and alleyways would lead to apartments or restaurants or more shops. It was the same here - the market, filled with aliens, and very obvious roads to turn down.

There were dim lights stuck in the walls of building and shining down from what could only be called streetlights. The floor dipped down in the middle of the marketplace, vents expelling steam from unseen sources. Pidge stuck to Shiro, lowering her hands from her face. “Where to first?” she asked. 

Shiro sighed. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s pick one and get started.”

Allura nodded. “Right. I’ll take one side,” she said, pointing to her right. An alien at a stall was considering the three of them with bulbous eyes. “The two of you can handle the other.” 

It was obvious that Shiro was a bit reluctant to let Allura go off alone. The face he made was enough. When he tried to object, she merely strode off and Shiro trailed off with a sigh. Pidge didn’t blame him. This place gave her the creeps more than any of the others they had gone to. 

At least he had finally let go of Pidge, trusting her to stick to his side. And she planned to, but after the sixth alien brushed them off and then the eighth one shook their head and said, no, they hadn’t seen any humans there in years… well, she was starting to feel like this was a waste of time. A familiar feeling for her by now. She let Shiro handle all the talk, staring out at the different aliens until Shiro was ushering her along again. 

They were waiting behind a tall, rock-like alien when she spotted it. 

Another of those alligator-like aliens, tapping at a screen by the wall nearby. The screen was holographic, its projector seated on top of a short pole. As she watched, the alien bent down and yanked a device out of the projector’s side before walking off. Pidge stared, patting the pocket of her shorts. The holographic screen blinked out of existence as she felt the small drive press against her thigh. 

The customer in front of them was moving on and Shiro was stepping forward.

Pidge glanced from him to the holographic projector and made up her mind. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Shiro, jolting forward into a jog. She heard Shiro calling after her, apologizing to the alien shopkeeper, his footsteps behind her - but her mind was already thundering ahead. If this worked, if she made this work, then they may actually go back with something solid. An actual lead, a direction to head in, something other than these stupid random stops - 

She shoved the drive in before Shiro made it over to her. The alien lettering on the screen made no sense and she screwed up her face, wishing once more for the Paladin armor. The visor of the helmet translated text fast, but here she had to wait for the program inside the device to work. If she programmed it right (and of course she had) it would take a moment, and then translate for her. That part of it was based off software she used to crack Galra codes - scan alien text, translate for her, and then she could get to work. 

Shiro said, “Pidge! What are you doing? We’re supposed to stick together.”

“I’m working,” she said, tapping two fingers on the side of the projector. “If it’d just hurry up…”

“Working on what?” 

Pidge spared him a glance. He was eyeing the screen with a frown. “It’ll scan the network,” she said, “and look for anything that could be Lance or Keith.” 

For a moment, Shiro was silent. “Is it going to work?” he said.

The text on the screen flickered, and then an English translation sprang to life over the alien words. Some of it was off, strange words and phrasing, but it was passable. She could work with this. “I built it,” she said, already tapping at the screen. “It’ll work just fine.” 

Shiro leaned in closer, hovering just over her shoulder. He was tall enough that it didn’t distract her, although he did cast a shadow over half the screen. 

Whatever. He could watch if he wanted. Pidge’s fingers were already flying across the screen, slipping through the menus of some kind of market catalogue and into other sections. Apparently, this projector was part of a system available to everyone onboard the station - along with the catalogue was a place to report crimes (nearly empty), several messageboards, and a heavily secured area that was linked to private systems. She chose one the translations labeled as ‘police military’ and set to hacking. 

Shiro’s shadow shifted. She didn’t take her eyes from the screen, but heard him muttering to himself. Something about how she shouldn’t do this kind of thing in public, no idea who would see it. 

Pidge paid him no attention. The program was working as she opened up sections, a progress bar lighting up at the bottom of the screen. After several minutes, the entire secured section was open to her and the bar was flashing along - and then small pictures began popping up: stills from a camera high above the hangers, scanned portions of a handwritten note, a series of strange alien texts, a large and foreboding ship. A few more buttons pushed, and all of that was being downloaded into the drive. 

At some point during the scan, Allura had migrated over to them. Pidge didn’t respond when she asked what was going on, let Shiro handle it, and then ignored them talking behind her. She watched the screen, sending more files into the drive when necessary. 

When the drive finished its scan, she popped it out and spun on her heels. The holographic screen was already fading as she said, “We should leave now. It’s done, but I can’t exactly reverse all that I just did.” 

Shiro and Allura exchanged a look. “So, if we stay here…?” Shiro started.

“Whoever is in charge of this station is going to come after us,” Pidge finished. 

Allura’s eyes widened briefly, but then she blinked and it was replaced with a smile. “Sounds like a good time to leave, then,” she said. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Not only did they get off the station, but Allura took the Castle out of the system entirely. It seemed like a bit much, but Pidge could easily see a fleet of pirates and crazy aliens flying out to attack them on the stations’ orders. She didn’t mind either way - stay put, go coast around nearby systems, whatever Allura wanted to do was fine.

Pidge had what she wanted. She parked herself by Green in the hanger and hooked the laptop up to her devices, and set to making sense of what had downloaded. Most of it was junk - hints of aliens in red or blue outfits; a few humans whose descriptions were nothing like their Paladins; the photos of the ship that she saved for later, to re-examine when all of this made sense. 

She expected going through all of it to take a long time. Quintants, maybe a movement or two. 

Instead, late in that first night, while Green’s presence in her head was muted and low, she found something. 

Something big.

Something good, something solid, something that she stared at with tired eyes. For the briefest moment, she thought this couldn’t be real because this was what she had been hoping for. With the way things were going, this shouldn’t have happened until the fourth or fifth time she ran the program.

One of the pictures copied to the device, taken from a camera high above a crowd, had come along with a cargo list from a freighter. The list was linked to the photo, and then the images of the ship she had were linked to that list, and - 

And Pidge was currently staring at a zoomed in image of a white and blue armored boy. Tall grey aliens flanked him, but that had to be him.

Pidge had an image of Lance. 

Slowly, a grin crossed her face and she slammed her fists onto the table, pieces of alien hardware jumping. “Found you,” she whispered. In the back of her head, Green purred quietly - a proud understanding of what Pidge had done. She flashed the lion a grin and then leaned back in her chair. Finally, after weeks, she had somewhere to go. 

The team had to know. Shiro and Allura, definitely, but maybe Hunk first. Lance was his friend first, after all. Didn’t seem right to have a lead on him and not let Hunk know. Then they could fly out, take out anyone who was keeping Lance from leaving - and maybe Keith would be with him too. That would be ideal, both of them together and one trip for Voltron to roll in and rescue them from whatever aliens had snatched them. 

Images of lions firing lasers onto a massive ship floated through her head, followed by the team finding the boys and helping them out. Everyone coming back to the Castle for a good, well-deserved party of some kind. 

It’d be great.

But, first. 

Pidge took a deep breath, shaking her head to rid the fantasies away. She had an image of Lance, but not much else. A list that labeled two human passengers as cargo - had to him and Keith - and strange names that she couldn’t decipher. Then there was the ship, the massive hulking thing. She brought up the images of it, staring at it - three separate pictures, all from different angles. It showed a large, oblong shape with obvious mounted guns on its hull. Its size was obvious from the smaller shuttles flitting beneath it, little sparks of white against the black of space. She wanted to judge it to be roughly the size of the Galra battle cruisers, and that was a pretty big ship. 

Above those images, she brought up the cargo list again. Most of the descriptions were translated, but the sections at the top weren’t. Symbols and lettering by sections translated as ‘owner’ and ‘registration’, ‘ship’. Those were important, and that was what she started with. 

Decipher the text and the names, then she could run searches for that information and maybe find out more. Like where this ship was from, where it was going, where it had been. Where it may have dropped off two important people. 

It took quintants of work, of basically living in the hanger with Green. It was the same pattern she had fallen into before - work until she fell asleep, exhausted. Accept food from Hunk or Coran - only now, she sent them away with a reluctant twinge, not telling them what she was working on. She just didn’t want to give any kind of hope until she cracked this, until she was sure of where to go or what they were looking for. Either one would be good. One day, Shiro called down, said they had to take care of a small Galra force attacking a nearby planet. 

With a huff, she abandoned her work and suited up to take care of it. Maybe she was too impatient during the mission and too rough with the way she handled the Galra and the planet’s citizens, but her work was calling her back. Green understood, empathised with her impatience.  The lion’s insistent growling in her head, the itch she felt both inside and out - the lion wanted this solved as much as she did. Green wanted the Paladins back too. 

As soon as the mission was done and the lions landed at the Castle, Pidge flew out of Green and back to the desk closeby. When Hunk and Shiro checked on her, she was bent over the keyboard, fingers flying. 

Three quintants later, the names were deciphered. She had, with Green’s help, built a translation for the stubborn symbols. Worked from the ground up, all text and symbols compared to what had already translated, cross-referenced and compared again… A long, grueling process, but now she had the name of the freighter and the alien who owned it. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The days after the tournament passed quickly. Since they had failed to make it into the duo and solo finals, Keith and Lance had two days free of fights. Upon hearing this, Keith had thought that meant they would have free time, and that he could actually take the time to rest his arm. The pain was still bad, stabbing and intense if he moved it too fast or happened to brush up against anything. On the second day of solo fights, Keith headed to the cafeteria and only wondered what kind of odd alien food they’d be given today. 

He should have expected a guard herding them into the training room, where the crate of their armor waited for them. He stared at it, glanced at Lance, and then the door opened for Avilus to step through. “I don’t have the time to deal with you two right now,” the alien said. “Armor on. You’ll be spending the next two days training.” He left just as quickly.

Lance was groaning. He was running a hand through his hair when Keith looked at him. After a moment, he looked over and caught Keith’s gaze. “Think we can bail on this stupid training?” 

Keith dropped his eyes to the brace over his arm. The silver buckles glinted in the overhead lights. “Can’t,” he said. “Cameras all over the place, remember?” 

At that, Lance cursed. They stood side-by-side in silence for a bit longer before Keith gave in and turn to the crate. He opened it with one hand, and then he was shoved aside. He shot Lance a glare that the other boy didn’t return, eyes on their armor as he pulled the pieces out. Hell, Lance didn’t even look at him until he was handing over the flightsuit.

Keith snatched the suit from him, saying, “That wasn’t necessary, Lance.” 

Lance shrugged. He didn’t comment, just took his own suit from the crate and turned away from Keith to change. The lack of his usual brand of bullshit, the playful jabs and bad jokes, had Keith staring at his back with a critical frown. Then Lance pulled his shirt over his head, the tanned skin of his back drawing Keith from his thoughts. He let his gaze wander, tracing down the curve of his spine to the waist of his pants. Lance hooked his fingers through the waistband, tugged them down, and Keith averted his eyes with a jolt. 

Fuck. He couldn’t just watch - 

As if knowing he had some kind of… of  _ thing  _ for this idiot meant he could stand here and -

Keith stripped down fast, face burning and curses spinning through his head. He was not going to take advantage of the situation and watch someone undress. He was going to ignore every part of his own feelings until they were on the Castle. Once there, he’d probably vent to Shiro and continue doing nothing about it because it was stupid. Feelings were stupid. Lance was stupid. He turned his attention to getting ready for training instead, growling under his breath every time something irritated the brace.

Pulling on the flightsuit made his healing arm twinge angrily, and cinching the armor around his legs and waist made it worse. By the time he had the chest piece in his hands, Keith was glaring at his arm and snarling a string of curses. He wanted nothing more than to turn back time and shove his sword into the throat of the alien that broke the bone. 

To make it worse, Lance had come to stand by him. Already dressed in armor, helmet under one arm, Lance was glancing between Keith’s braced arm and the chest piece he held. “You need help there, buddy?” he asked, smiling. 

Keith switched his glare to him. “I can do it myself,” he snapped. 

Lance nodded. “Okay. Go on, then.” 

Keith knew damn well he couldn’t raise his arms high enough to put this thing on without his arm screeching in protest. He grit his teeth and shoved the armor at Lance, his glare daring the other boy to say anything. All Lance did was grin at him before leaning close to help him. And Keith was not going to let his frustration dim just because of how close they were. He glared at the wall before him and the floor as Lance started to secure armor along his arms without being asked. 

After Keith’s right arm was armored, Lance said, “I don’t mind helping you out.” He was smiling again when Keith raised his gaze but it wasn’t as bright as it should have been. The one he’d given earlier, when he offered to help, that one wasn’t quite right either. Keith considered this as Lance kept talking. “I mean, broken bones hurt, right? At least you got me here. Imagine trying to pull this stuff on alone.” He gestured at himself with the piece of armor he held in one hand. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “Lucky me. You gonna finish this?” 

Lance blinked. “Right, yeah,” he said, stepping over to work with Keith’s injured arm. The brace wouldn’t fit under the armor, so Keith hadn’t even bothered to fit it over the flightsuit. The sleeve of the suit was folded over itself to rest above his elbow, and only the piece over his bicep was going on that arm. It was secured quickly, and then Lance was looking him over. 

Keith flexed his braced hand, fidgeting on his feet. “What is it?” he asked, eyeing Lance.

Lance didn’t speak for a second longer, and then he sighed. “Just thinking,” he said with a shrug. He moved away from Keith to get their helmets - he had laid his on the floor by Keith’s earlier, and paused to pull it on before handing Keith’s his.

Keith took it with his right hand. “Thinking about what?” he asked.

The door opened again before Lance could answer. It was Khattala; she took one step into the room and didn’t say a word, just looked at the two of them. Clearly, she was going to be in charge of their training today. Lance was facing her in an instant. “Hey, Kat,” he said, pointing back at Keith. “Are they gonna make him fight like that?”

Keith was half sure that was an insult. Lance sounded annoyed so it probably was, albeit a weird one.

Khattala tilted her head. “Yes. Of course he’ll have to fight. What are you even talking about?”

“Are you serious? Look at him!” Lance waved his hand at Keith, turning back to frown at him.

This was definitely some kind of insult. 

“His whole arm is unprotected,” Lance continued, facing Khattala again. “He can’t fight like that.” 

Wait, what? 

“I’m sure Keith can handle himself.” Khattala sounded bored.

So it wasn’t an insult. Just some kind of weird, unnecessary concern? Keith frowned at Lance’s back. “Is that what you were thinking about?” he demanded. He watched Lance looked back at him and added, “It’s not my whole arm. It’s half an arm, and most of it is in a brace.”

“Right,” Lance said, nodding. “Like I said. Totally unprotected, totally shouldn’t fight like that.” 

Keith made a face. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine,” Lance said. “You’ve got an obvious weakness. Our enemies will use that to their advantage.”

“They’re not going to aim for one arm,” Keith said. “Who would bother?” Most likely, anyone they faced while Keith’s arm was like this would focus more on unbalancing him than trying to attack his braced arm. It’d be easier to knock him back when he could only fight properly with one hand. It’s what he would do. 

“You just wait,” Lance said. “Someone’s gonna strike for that arm, and then I’m gonna have to come to your rescue. Again.” 

“Again? When was the first time?”

“Uh, duh.” Lance gestured at the brace, brows raised.

Keith raised that hand to flick him off. Worth the twinge of pain to watch Lance’s face contort into a surprised frown. “Yeah, good job with that rescue,” he said, sarcasm heavy. “My hero.” 

Something dark flashed across Lance’s face and vanished behind a weak glare. “You - “

And then Khattala interrupted them, loudly: “Okay! I’ve had enough of this.” Both of them looked her way and she said. “You’re coming with me today, for some team-based training. And you can leave the arguing in here.” She looked between both of them before heading out the door, clearly expecting them to follow. 

That was fine with Keith. He shot Lance one last withering glare and walked after Khattala. She hadn’t waited for them and was halfway to the arena door when Keith caught up to her, Lance behind him. She led them down the curved hall, almost to the other side of the arena, and into a large, empty room. A table by the door held their weapons. A few minutes later, another pair of aliens were ushered through the door and it became obvious that Avilus’s idea of ‘team training’ was exactly what it always had been: He and Lance were to fight these aliens. As far as Keith knew, there was nothing else to be gained here. It was like busy work, something to keep them occupied and on their feet. 

There was one major difference from all the other times they had done this ‘training’. Keith’s arm wasn’t it - he’d already experience how annoying it was to fight with one good hand. He adjusted for it, positioned himself with the injured arm away from their opponents. Any strike that made pain spring to life, he tried to remember, file it away as something to not do right now. For the most part, he ignored the pain and focused on the fight. 

The problem was Lance. Instead of covering Keith with the sniper, like he usually did and like Keith was expecting him to, he had planted himself next to Keith. He stood just close enough that Keith had to take extra care to make sure he didn’t hit Lance with each swing of his sword. After the second time Keith parried his opponent and nearly cut a gash in Lance’s arm, he’d had enough. “What are you doing?” he snapped, taking his eyes off the aliens. 

Lance didn’t meet his gaze. “Fighting, dude. What else?” He let a string of bullets fire at their opponents, lighting up the floor by the feet. 

“Fight further back,” Keith said. The aliens were currently trying to dodge gunfire and failing, bullets pinging off their armored boots. 

Lance spared him a quick glance, and in that second, one of the aliens bolted forward. “Why? I’m fine here.” 

Keith knocked the alien back with one strike - the blade of his sword came dangerously close to Lance  _ again _ and he snarled. “You’re too close. Back up.” 

Of course Lance didn’t listen. He scoffed, turning his attention back to the aliens. If Keith tried to tell him to move back, he’d respond with something dismissive. Like, “Bit busy, Keith,” and “Pay attention to what you’re doing, man.” 

Every second spent with him in the way was needling at Keith until he was glaring holes into the aliens before him and swinging with more force than necessary. Then one of them charged for him, their own sword swinging over their head. Keith took a step back, planted his feet, raised his sword to stop the blow - 

And Lance shoved bodily into him, knocking him farther back. He stumbled, confused, and watched Lance push his rifle up to catch the aliens’ sword. From behind him, it looked as if the sword had come within two inches of slamming into Lance’s helmet. The alien looked surprised, but it wasn’t letting up. Keith stared at them, then scowled. “What the fuck,” he growled, “was that for?” 

“You wanna help me?” was all Lance said.

Keith was going to explode. His grip tightened around the sword’s hilt, teeth bared. He caught the eye of the alien Lance was holding back and the alien recoiled just a fraction. “You’re gonna tell me what the fuck you’re doing,” Keith said. He dove around Lance, aiming for the alien’s gut, wanting nothing more than to let his anger out somehow. 

Lance stepped away the instant Keith came close and the alien stumbled forward, straight into the blade of Keith’s sword. They grunted, sharp edge cutting into their armor, and took steps back to reorient, to attack again. Keith met them gladly. He pretended Lance wasn’t standing near him, pretended Khattala wasn’t standing by the wall and observing them. He let himself sink into the fight and it was good, his anger flowing steadily into adrenaline as he dodged, parried, and struck for the alien after him. 

For a moment, he managed to forget the ever-present hum of pain in his arm. When the alien tried to disarm him, Keith swung the sword over their head, let it go, and caught it in his left hand. Instantly, pain sparked to life and he flinched, his next breath a hiss. The alien took advantage, pushing against him - against the sword in his hand. It hurt, like fire spreading through his muscles and snaking around the bone itself. A pained noise rose in his throat and he smothered it, let it escape as a growl instead. 

The alien he was fighting pulled back just to prepare a stronger blow. Their partner, the one Lance had been dealing with, was suddenly at Keith’s side, another blade glinting as it moved towards him.

Well, shit. 

This wasn’t a real fight, and in their previous training fights, being caught like this meant they lost. He was ready to surrender, despite how much he hated admitting defeat. At least then he’d have a chance to rest and let the pain slip away. 

A hand curled around his right arm, pulling him back. He let it happen, already relaxing his stance. The pair of aliens were relaxing as well, lowering their swords and looking around as if waiting for a new order. Keith looked at them for a second, then switched his blade to his uninjured hand with a grumbled curse. Lance was standing close by him, hand still tight on Keith’s arm. The rifle hung loosely in his other hand. He spoke and it was quiet, almost a whisper: “You alright, man?” 

Keith looked from him to the brace. He flexed his hand, hissing as pain spread through his arm at the slight movement. “I’ll be fine,” he said, pushing the words through a clenched jaw. “Dealt with it yesterday. Not a problem.” 

Lance was unconvinced, his brow furrowed and eyes dark. “It’s a big problem,” he said. “You can’t fight like this.” 

He rolled his eyes at Lance. “I can fight just fine. I’ve been fighting fine.” 

“You used that arm once and we lost,” Lance said. 

“It’s not like this’ll be permanent.” 

“Yeah, you better hope not.” Lance made a face that was somewhere between annoyed and concerned. It just made creases appear in his skin. “I can’t be there all the time, dude. What if you messed up for real? What if - ?”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith cut across him. This was almost the same bullshit argument from earlier, before they had left the training room. What the hell was Lance’s deal? “I’ll be better than fine if you stay out of my way.” 

The lines in Lance’s face deepened into a frown, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not in your way,” he said. 

“Yes. You are.” 

“I’m there to help you.” 

Keith was suddenly very aware that Lance hadn’t moved his hand yet. He scoffed, shrugging his shoulder to dislodge Lance from his arm. “Some help,” he said. “I have to check my swings every time to make sure I don’t hit you. Do you know how annoying that is? How distracting? You’ve got a gun, Lance. You can help further back.” 

“If that was a real fight,” Lance started. 

“If it was a real fight,” Keith interrupted, voice rising, “You would’ve been on the fucking vents. Away from me. Like you always are.” 

For some reason, Lance flinched back from him, looking as if Keith had slapped him across the face. 

Before either of them could get another word out, Khattala strode over to them. She sent a seething stare at each of them in turn, ears flat against her skull. “What did I say about arguing?” When neither of them spoke, she huffed a breath. Her ears rose a few centimeters. “I was not supposed to be overseeing training today,” she continued. “And since I am, I’m not going to put up with you two bickering over stupid things. Save it for later. You get five doboshes to relax, and then I’m bringing another team in here.” 

Lance had schooled his face into his usual light smile. “How long are we doing this?”

“Until lunch,” she said. “And then solo training until dinner.” 

An entire day of pointless training, and Keith had to factor in his injury and, apparently, Lance’s insistence on being in the way. The rest of the day passed in the same vein as that first fight: Keith would be attacked just as he anticipated - enemies trying to push him back, throw him off balance, use his injury to their advantage. When he tried to work around it, Lance would get in the way and either push him back or pull him away. Sometimes, he had to watch Lance take a hit that was meant for him and sometimes Lance would successfully block it. No matter what the outcome, Lance was still in his way and it was still irritating him. 

By the time they were released for lunch, Keith was looking forward to solo training just to let off steam without having to worry about being shoved around. 

The next day was the same. The tournament was going on in its final stages in the arena proper, and Lance and Keith were shoved into a training room to fight pairs of aliens. It was a different guard this time, once called Rinoc that had overseen Keith’s solo training twice now. Big guy, curved horns over his head, always wore a helmet. He spoke little other than to tell them to stop arguing and pay attention to what was happening. 

Keith was going to murder someone. 

Probably Lance if he kept this shit up. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The tournament was over. An alien Keith had never heard of had won the solo division - according to the twins, the winner was already the solo champion and a hell of a dirty fighter. A duo from outside the arena had managed to win over the enslaved fighters, running off with a huge sum of prize money. The arena was officially back on its regular schedule, with a two day downtime before the fights resumed. 

So of course, Avilus had decided that Keith and Lance would continue their rigorous and pointless training. It was going to be solo training first this time, with a couple hours downtime after lunch, and then night training in the arena. Back to the usual. 

Before they were separated that morning, Avilus cornered them in the training room. He blocked the door with his huge bulk, sneering down at them. “Boys,” he said, “it’s time we discuss your tournament standings.” 

Keith was already done with this. He hadn’t slept well, fractured nightmares waking him through the night, and on top of that, breakfast had been unusually disgusting today. He wanted to either sleep or punch someone’s face in two. He spared a glance at Lance to see the other boy gazing at the wall to Avilus’s right side. Looked like he wasn’t paying much attention either. 

“I can’t say I’m very surprised,” Avilus was saying. “New fighters, well… They never do well in these. Not at first.” A nasty grin split his face open. “Some of them never do. Some of them struggle and fail, over and over, to achieve greatness in Zeta.” His eyes flicked from Keith to Lance, lingered for a moment, and then snapped back to Keith. “Some of them, however, can rise to victory.” 

The implications there were obvious. In Avilus’s eyes, Keith was going to succeed and Lance was slated for failure. What an asshole. Keith crossed his arms over his chest, holding Avilus’s gaze with his own. 

“I am pleased that you lasted through the first day of your partnered fights,” Avilus said. “I expected you to fail within the first two, if I’m being honest. I still don’t have much faith in the two of you. You haven’t shown enough spirit in the arena to warrant my faith, nor have you given much in training to achieve what I expect you to.” He raised his hand to gesture to them both, his expression cold now. “I have told you both many times: I paid a lot for you. I keep you together - despite certain problems that have arose - because you came on stage together. You’re supposed to fight as a team, and yet, you still bicker and argue and fail to work together.” 

This had nothing to do with the tournament. Avilus was using that as an excuse to berate them again, to belittle them and pick holes in everything they did. Keith made a point to look bored, never lowering his eyes from the alien. He knew what came next. Avilus would nitpick their fights, using their losses as reasons why they were failing and useless, and then try to turn it on its head and hand out half-assed praise.

He started with Keith. “You’re still letting your anger get the best of you,” he said. “It’s what I’ve come to expect, but it’s heavily disappointing. Is it because of your Galra blood?”

Also not new. Once every days, Avilus liked to tell Keith that his heritage made him hot-blooded and prone to violence. Apparently all Keith had to do was ignore that entirely and he’d be fine. 

“Your display over that blade of yours was disgustingly primal,” Avilus continued. “I’m not sure if it is the Galra or the Human part of you that makes you act so shamefully, but you need to control yourself. Whether you’re aware of it or not, letting yourself become that angry directly influences how you fight. And it makes you sloppy.” He went on to say that Keith lost his solo fights because of this anger - not because of the injury, no, it was the anger. “Giving you that blade was supposed to be an incentive. Not an excuse for you to behave like a child.” 

The blade in question was nowhere to be seen. The crate that held their weapons only have his sword and the pistol inside. Keith assumed the blade was being held until their next actual fight. It was annoying for this beast to be controlling it, but Keith no longer found himself enraged by the thought. Since that first time he tried to keep it, when Avilus attacked him and he argued with Lance, Keith had vowed to take it back before they escaped. He’d have it back and maybe he’d cut Avilus up with it. 

Avilus had turned his attention to Lance. HIs face had fallen into a disappointed snarl. “And you,” he said. “You know exactly where you went wrong.” 

Keith turned his head to look at Lance. He could see how Lance wilted under Avilus’s words and frowned. 

“The way you two were taken out from the partnered divison,” Avilus was saying, “was a disgrace. You should know better by now what your role is out there. Now, make no mistake. I care none for whatever is going on between you two, but when you let that cloud your judgement, you make mistakes. You fail at your job.” He waved a hand in Keith’s direction. “Your partner was injured, and do you know why that happened?” 

Keith was glancing between the two of them now, a cold burn building in his chest. Lance was looking more and more defeated with each word, like he believed every word Avilus said. 

“It happened,” Avilus said, “because you failed at your job.”

Keith zeroed in on Avilus once again, eyes wide. 

“You were too slow,” Avilus continued. “You failed, and your partner has to suffer for it. You understand that, don’t you? Keep that up, Lance, and I’ll have no choice but to find Keith a partner better suited for him.” 

At that, Avilus fell silent. He looked between the two of them again, then sighed and started to turn for the door. 

He hadn’t even taken a step when Keith blurted out, “You’re full of shit.” He waited until Avilus had turned back to look at him. “That loss wasn’t because of Lance. I wasn’t injured because of him.” 

Avilus actually cracked a smile, a low chuckle rising from his throat. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked. 

Keith’s details of the fight were still shrouded, still a mess. He refused to admit that. “I know it wasn’t his fault.” 

“Well,” Avilus said, “you did take quite a hit to your head at the end of it. I doubt you remember much of it.” His smile grew and it was sickening, made the burn of fury rise in Keith’s gut. “I watch all your fights, you know. I see exactly what happens. I know that you let your anger win - just as you always do - and I know you let it cloud your judgement to the point that you attacked like an untrained child. But despite all your violence, you fought well and fought hard. Your opponent bested you - it happens. You can’t win them all.” Here, his smile turned mocking. “I watched Lance try and fail to help you. He missed his shots. He could have saved you from that injury, but he didn’t. Because he is not good enough. So you can argue all you like, but know that you’re wrong.” 

Keith was glaring at him, anger tickling his throat and a snarl warping his face. His hands were clenched fists by his sides. 

Avilus had made it to the door, but then he paused, threw another look at them. “Oh. But you’ve done a good job with your individual skills. Good improvement in that respect. Keep it up.” And then he was gone. 

The second the door slid shut behind him, Keith whirled and aimed a kick at the crate that their armor had come in. He put as much force into it as possible, sending it skittering across the floor. “That piece of shit,” he growled. “I can’t believe him! Does he seriously think I’m going to buy that?” He was edging on a rant but there was nothing to vent his anger on, no one to fight and no one to yell at. Just Avilus’s lingering presence and Lance, standing quiet beside him. “Asshole acts like every single loss is somehow our fault, like - like - “ Like there weren’t teams that were just better. Like they didn’t just lose sometimes. Keith let out an irritated noise, reaching up to shove his hands through his hair. The buckles on the brace pulled at strands and that annoyed him further. “I just really want to punch the guy. Or stab him, or something!”

Especially now. 

Avilus liked to blame Lance a lot for some reason, but this was the worst by far. 

Keith paused to breath, trying to calm himself, and in that silence, Lance spoke. Just a quiet, “He’s right,” and Keith’s anger nearly split in two. He cast a startled glance at Lance, but Lance was staring at the floor, shoulders hunched. 

“What…?”

“It’s my fault.” 

Tendrils of fire still clung to Keith, his heart beating fast from it. He stared, confused, trying to wrap his head around this. “What are you talking about? Avilus is just talkin’ out his ass, like he always is.” 

Lance shook his head. “He’s not.” He raised his head to look at Keith and the sheer guilt there froze the anger out of Keith in a wave. “I could have stopped that guy from hurting you, but I missed. Twice.” He sounded wrecked - quiet and sad and nothing like he usually did. He’d already torn his eyes from Keith with a sigh. “I tried but it wasn’t enough. I don’t know… Maybe if I wasn’t so angry with you I could’ve done it?” 

All Keith could do was stare at him. “It wasn’t - It’s not your fault.” It didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember the details. He was willing to bet it was no one’s fault, and if someone was to blame, it’d be Keith himself. “I got caught, so it’d be mine, right? I shouldn’t let people grab me like that.” 

It was like Lance didn’t even hear him. “I have one job here, and that’s to cover you.” He was frowning, gesturing with his hands while his eyes stayed locked to the ground. “I climb up on these damn vents to get a better view, and I still can’t help you.” 

“Lance…”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said. “I should’ve been faster or better or able to land one damn shot when you needed me to.” 

“Lance, stop.” 

“I’m sorry, Keith.” 

This wasn’t right. Lance shouldn’t be wracked with guilt, shouldn’t look so damn upset at himself for something that wasn’t his fault. It was making Keith distressed, the sheer need to comfort Lance weighing against wanting to shake some sense into him. He reached forward and thought, for a second, about pulling the other boy into a hug. What had Lance said the other day? That sometimes hugs were nice? It was true and Keith was sure it’d help, hopefully anyway. He wanted to, the idea of pulling Lance close and holding him until he stopped talking this bullshit was strong and good and he almost gave into it.

But all he did was take Lance by the shoulders and squeeze, shaking him until those blue eyes rose the floor. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?” he said. It came out rougher than he meant to and Lance’s frown deepened. “You can’t seriously believe anything Avilus says. He’s a dick.” 

Lance averted his gaze again, this time to where Keith’s injured hand was on his shoulder. He reached up to take it in his own, his grip light and careful. “Sometimes, he’s right,” he said. “If I was good enough, you wouldn’t be in pain right now.” 

The arm barely hurt, just giving small twinges when he moved it too fast. “It’s healing, Lance. I’m fine.” 

Lance just shook his head. 

The door slid open behind them before Keith could figure out what to say. He barely had time to blink before Lance was stepping away from him, bending down to retrieve his helmet from the floor. He gave a half-hearted goodbye as he walked past, Keith turning to follow him, planning to call him back because this wasn’t finished. He couldn’t let Lance continue thinking like this. 

He locked eyes with Khattala instead. She was always Lance’s private instructor, always there to pull him off for solo training. Usually, she never said a word to Keith. Just took Lance and stalked off. Today, her eyes were wide, ears perked up and she stared him down curiously. “Uh… Did you two fight or what? He looks like someone died.” 

“No,” he said. “When we fight, Lance gets pissed. He thinks he’s responsible for this.” And he raised his arm to show the brace. 

Khattala took one look at it and rolled her eyes. “You two,” she said, “are ridiculous.” 

“What?”

She turned her sharp yellow eyes back to him, brows raised. “You can’t comfort him? I’d think you’d be good at that, considering how close you two are.” 

Keith made a face and chose not to comment on that. “He won’t listen to me.” 

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell him how stupid he is.” She started for the door, but paused, eyeing him skeptically. “You should work on ways to comfort him, by the way. I may be stuck in this place, but even I know there are other ways to make someone feel better than just talking at them.” Then she was gone, leaving Keith to stand there and try to decipher what the fuck that was supposed to mean.

Shit, maybe he should’ve hugged Lance. He could overcome his own awkward nerves to hug someone. At the very least, Keith had to try and convince Lance he was wrong. Somehow. As he waited for a guard to come and get him, he vowed to talk to Lance again later. Definitely before they slept. 

Except then the solo training ran into lunch, where Lance was seemingly in a better mood. He smiled, he joked, he teased Keith and laughed at him and smiled in a way that made his eyes shine. Keith forgot to mention anything, and he one hundred percent blamed the way his stomach had fluttered in the wake of that stupid smile. Duo training shoved it further from his mind, in a way. There wasn’t any time to bring it up, but Keith took note of Lance standing close to him and thought back to the irritating ways he had shoved Keith from aliens they were fighting. He was pretty sure he understood what Lance was trying to do. 

That night, Keith crawled into his bunk and Lance lay beside him. He laid on his side, facing Lance, eyes on the brace on his arm between them. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, he’d find a way to bring it all back up and make sure Lance understood. 

The opportunity didn’t show itself until two days later, when Keith was finally taken to the medic to have the brace removed. The stout, reptilian alien unbuckled the brace in three seconds and threw it onto the table next to him. Then he poked at Keith’s arm, making a thoughtful noise when Keith growled at him. It was less that it still hurt like hell, more because the medic’s fingers left a slimy feeling on his skin. It was disgusting. 

“You can go,” the medic said. He’d already turned away, busying himself in the medical supplies. “Your arm should be fine within two more quintants, but don’t stress it too much. I’m too busy to deal with it again.” 

Keith gave the alien a brief unimpressed look and let himself out of the medbay. In the hall outside, the third floor was mostly guards and aliens wearing strange suits or dress clothes. They paid him no attention as he made his way to the stairwell. He spent the walk down clenching and unclenching a fist, turning his hand over. The pain was so light it felt like a small burning tickle, practically gone entirely. That was good. Great, even, considering that Avilus had them slated for a fight in only a few hours. Maybe he could get a guard or Lance to spar with him beforehand, make sure he had his full range of movement back. 

He found Lance in the cafeteria, poking at a plate of sickly grey food, disgusted. He didn’t look up as Keith sat down in front of him. “Do you see this?” he said. “They actually expect us to eat it.” 

Keith laid both hands on the table. It was cool to the touch and he was surprised to find he’d actually missed something smooth and cold against his arm. Days of that damn warm, tough brace wasn’t fun. “Where’s Y’skai? He loves this stuff.” 

“They’re fighting,” Lance said, looking up. “The one time I need an alien with no taste buds, he’s too busy stabbing people.” 

“Stabbing people?”

“What, you haven’t seen his weapons?” 

Keith shook his head. 

Lance smiled. He had completely given up on his food, shoving the tray over so he could lean forward. “Shock swords. Two of them.” He said that, while Keith was training solo, Y’skai had invaded Lance’s own training and sparred with him. “Dude is scary in a fight,” he said, “and he was going on easy on me. You are definitely taking him on if we face them in the arena. I can’t deal with that.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Make me fight a guy with... What are shock swords anyway?” 

“Electric swords.” Lance heaved a sighed, leaning his head on one hand. “Every time I dodged a hit, I felt the heat of those things and it was the scariest moment of my entire life.” 

Keith held back a laugh. Just having the brace off had put him in a better mood. “I’m glad you survived such a terrifying experience.” 

Lance’s smile widened for just a moment, and then his eyes finally fell on Keith’s arm and the smile exploded into a grin. “Oh, yeah! You got that thing off. How’s it feel?” He hadn’t even finished speaking before he reached over, taking Keith’s wrist in one hand. “It doesn’t still hurt, does it?” 

“Nah. It’s fine.” Keith let his arm be tugged forward, smiling when Lance turned it over in his hand. Warm fingers ran up his arm, and Keith thought he should pull back - because Lance clearly had no idea what he was doing. “Hasn’t hurt for over a day.” 

After a beat of silence, Lance hummed thoughtfully and then suddenly, he was bending Keith’s wrist backwards. Surprised, Keith spat a curse and yanked his hand away, frowning at Lance. “What the hell was that for?”

“Making sure you aren’t lying,” Lance said. He was staring at Keith with narrowed eyes. 

“Why would I lie?”

Lance shrugged. He broke the staredown to smile, drumming his fingers on the table. “Hey, at least you’re feeling better. I know how much broken bones can suck.” The smile he wore turned sour for a split second before it was back in full force. 

It was hardly there. A change in expression that Keith would’ve missed if he had blinked at the wrong time. But he caught it and it was enough to remind him of what Avilus had said, enough to flood his mind with a half-finished argument. He averted his gaze from Lance, frowning as he turned the words over in his head. The good mood he’d been in was fading fast, replaced with nerves the longer he was silent. He had to say the right thing, though, or else he’d probably just annoy Lance or upset him somehow. 

And maybe the cafeteria wasn’t the best place to bring it up, but he couldn’t spend another day without saying anything. So when Lance asked, “Uh, Keith? What’s up?” he took a breath before starting. 

“I - I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said, his eyes still locked on the table. There were specks of dust and crumbs all over it. “About what Avilus said the other day.” He heard the sigh from Lance, heard him start to speak, and stopped him. “No, just. Listen to me, okay? I know you actually believe him - “

Lance grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “He’s right.” 

Keith raised his head to stare at him, his annoyance with this entire situation bleeding through. “He’s not,” he said, “but I know you aren’t gonna just take my word for it. You made that obvious.” He glanced over Lance’s face, watching as his face fell into guilt and his eyes dropped to his lap. “But I’ve been thinking of what to say, and… Yeah, I’m not the best at this, but - but it wasn’t your fault.” 

Lance’s expression didn’t change. 

Keith bit his lip for a moment, brow furrowing. “Lance,” he said. “I don’t care why it happened. I just - I want you know that I, uh… I don’t blame you.” Days of thinking, and that was the best he had. And Lance didn’t say anything, so he kept talking, not sure of what he was trying to say anymore. “And, uh… I know I yelled at you for being in my way during those training fights, but I think I get it now? Like, why you did it, I mean. You felt bad so you were - you were trying to help, right?” Dammit, he wished Lance would say something. “So, I’m sorry about the yelling. I just didn’t want to hit you, you know. You were pretty close and, uh - nevermind. It’s not important.” Keith stared down at his hands, feeling his ears burning and heat crawling up his neck. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against the table. 

“I didn’t want you to get hurt again,” Lance said quietly. It was nearly lost in the noise of the other aliens that filled the cafeteria. He didn’t look at Keith but turned his head to watch as aliens began filing out of the room. “That’s it.” 

“That’s… what I thought, yeah.” Keith paused, fidgeting in his seat. “If I get hurt again” -when he got hurt again- “it won’t be because of you.” 

Lance pulled a face. “You can’t know that.” 

He wasn’t going to respond to that. “I know you’ll be covering me,” he said instead, “and I trust you won’t mess up.” 

That got Lance to look back him. The guilt was gone but heavy skepticism had taken its place. It was hardly an improvement. “But I already - “

“You didn’t mess up,” Keith interrupted. 

Lance huffed, gaze flicking back to the thinning crowd of aliens. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened.” Felt worth repeating. “I never will.” 

Lance had his chin resting on one hand, and he slowly lowered his head into it, covering his face with his palm. 

Keith considered that, then said, “During that fight, I’m pretty sure you saved me. You weren’t on the ground with those guys.” He may not remember much of it, but he remembered big things. Like how violent and aggressive the one he was facing off against had been. “If you hadn’t stopped him, he probably would’ve tried to kill me. So, thanks.” 

With his head in both his hands now, Lance’s voice was muffled. “Jesus, Keith… Stop talking.” 

“Are you done being guilty about this?” Keith asked. When he didn’t get an answer, he reached over the table to pull Lance’s hands from his face. Then he looked straight into Lance’s eyes and added, “You’re the best damn shot I’ve seen, Lance. I trust you.” 

Lance whispered something fast in Spanish, a light flush growing over his cheeks. He tore his eyes from Keith and tugged his hands free. Keith stayed where he was, smile on his face, trying to commit the sight of a flustered Lance to his memory. A few seconds later, Lance looked back at him and he immediately pushed a challenging smirk to his face. “So, wanna go spar?” he said with a nod toward the door. “I need to beat someone up, make sure I’m all set for these fights.” 

Lance blinked at him and then, smiling, countered him with, “Big words, hotshot. I’ll take you on.” 

✦✦✦✦✦

There was something wrong with the rest of Voltron. There had to be. An actual solid lead, and what had Allura said about it? “We’ve got people to help first, Pidge. Once we take care of this, we’ll track this ship down.” 

As if some random distress signal was more important than this. Pidge had taken her laptop and, after making a quick stop to show Hunk what she’d found, she explained the whole thing to the Alteans and Shiro. It turned out that Allura had already plotted a course to answer another distress beacon, another pointless mission along the edge of Galra space. It was some kind of fleet of ships that had sent out the signal saying they were being followed and tracked and, occasionally, attacked by Galra ships. Whatever the hell was going on had been continued for over two phoebs. 

Pidge had listened to all of this, then looked between Allura and Shiro, a frown growing on her face. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “Those guys’ve been fine on their own! We finally have a way to find them, and you want to put it off?” 

Allura had been looking at Pidge’s data with interest, but now she mirrored Pidge’s own expression and faced her. “It is important that we maintain a prescence in the galaxy,” she said. “Whoever these people may be, they need our help and we are in a position to lend it.” 

“Lance needs our help!”

“The Castle’s already on track to convene with the fleet,” Coran cut in. At least he bothered to sound sympathetic. “We’ll reach them in less than five vargas. We can’t back out now.” 

Pidge turned to Shiro then, silently pleading with him to talk some sense into these two. He had to know what was at stake, how big this was, how important - 

But Shiro sighed, his face masked carefully to hide emotion. “Pidge,” he said softly, “I want to find them just as much as you do. And we will.” 

She was already glaring at him. 

“As soon as we’re finished here,” Shiro said, “we’ll find them.” 

“So, you’re just gonna abandon them?” she snapped. Shiro’s face fell immediately. “The one lead we actually have that’s worth a damn, and you’re just going to ignore it. And for some strangers with a Galra tail.” 

“We don’t even know where the ship is,” Allura said. 

“I’m already searching for it.” She’d probably find it in the next varga or less. Not like it was that difficult - her programs were scanning for matches in Galra notes, in a database she’d pulled from a nearby planet’s network. And if those failed, then Pidge was all for going back to that space station and finding out where the ship had gone. She’d track it to the other side of the galaxy if that’s what it took.

Allura wasn’t phased. “I’m sorry, Pidge,” she said. “This is an excellent lead, and as we’ve told you, we’ll look into it as soon as we’ve helped out here.” 

“Right,” Pidge said. “I’ll just go prepare then.” She reached for her laptop, snapping it closed and walking stiffly back to the elevator. Shiro called after her; she ignored him, staring resolutely at the machine in her hands, already considering what to do next. 

This wasn’t like before, where she’d protest against the missions when they could be searching. There was a ship out there that had, at some point, held both Lance and Keith. She had a name, she had somewhere to begin tracking if all else failed. She had a reason to be upset about this, and yet, her team was determined to go save someone else. Someone they didn’t know, someone who could end up as much an enemy as the Galra. 

She was still thinking even as her feet took her to Hunk’s door. She’d left him there not even twenty doboshes ago. As soon as the door swung open, he looked at her hopefully. That faded as soon as he saw just how irritated she was. “Did it not go well?” he asked. “What’d they say?”

“They want to help someone else first,” Pidge said. Her grip on the laptop was tight. “People we’ve never met. I finally found them, and no one wants to go get them.” 

Hunk frowned. “Hey, I wanna get them.” Which, yeah… Of course he did. Hunk spent a good amount of time with Pidge, either helping her search or just thinking out loud about where their Paladins were now. One of his favorite topics was if Lance had stopped antagonizing Keith or if they were still at each other’s throats, wherever they were. 

“I know you do,” she said. “But Shiro and Allura think we shouldn’t.” She was paraphrasing now, but it didn’t matter. That was close enough to what had happened. 

“Man,” Hunk sighed. He waved for Pidge to follow him into the room, where she sat down on his bed and cracked the laptop open again. “What’d they say exactly? ‘Cause that doesn’t really sound like Shiro. Or Allura, actually.” 

Pidge scoffed. “It’s basically what they meant,” she said. The laptop still showed the ship’s images and she minimized those to bring up the scanning program. It’d paused while the screen was closed but started up again with one click. “Said we have to go out there and save some idiots from some Galra, and then we can go.” She muttered insults under her breath, watching the program fly through files. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Hunk said. He was sitting on the laptops other side, leaning over to peer at the screen. “We’ll still get to them. Just a little longer wait is all.” 

“We should be going now.” She shot Hunk a weary glare, sighing. Out of all them, Hunk should be on her side. 

“No, I know, I agree,” he said. He started to reach for the laptop and she snatched it into her lap. “I mean, you know I wanna find Lance - and Keith, too.” He paused, then flopped over onto his back with an overdramatic groan that had Pidge’s irritation faltering for just a second. “It’s been too quiet here without those two. Especially Lance! And when we find him, I’m gonna give him the hugest lecture - about what, I don’t know yet. But it’ll be something good!” 

“Last week, you were gonna make him cookies,” Pidge said. 

“I’m still doing that!” He sat back up again, closer to her and the laptop that he was still staring at. “Lance and Keith are gonna get lots of cookies and hugs and lectures for scaring us all like this. What are you looking for again?” He poked the screen with one finger, complaining to himself when Pidge scooted away. 

“The ship,” she said. “I’ve got a bunch of data from different species on this thing.” That was partially a lie. All she had was Galra and whatever a Talian was - their planet had been close to one of the stations Coran had insisted on stopping at and Pidge had taken the time to download information off their network. Wasn’t hard, gave her something to do. And now, it may actually be useful. “If I can find the ship, then we got a solid place to go looking.” 

“Oh. Makes sense.” 

“And I’ll go no matter what Shiro says.” 

“Right, right.” A beat. “Wait, what? You don’t mean by yourself?” 

Pidge didn’t look away from the screen. It was still scanning and scanning and scanning… “I will if I have to,” she said. She hadn’t planned on it, had hoped the rest of them would see how important this was and focus on it immediately. 

“I don’t think you should go alone,” Hunk said. “It won’t take too long to get rid of some Galra! We do this all the time.” 

She glanced at him, brows raised. “Hunk. We have three lions and there’s no telling how many Galra ships are attacking this fleet. Did I mention it’s an entire fleet of ships that hasn’t been able to shake the Galra on their tail?” 

Hunk blinked, let out a low hum and turned his gaze to the ceiling. “Maaaaybe they just don’t know how to fight?” 

“Or maybe it’s a lot of Galra and we’re flying into some bullshit when we should be helping our friends.” 

“I’m gonna hope they just don’t know how to fight.” 

Pidge tapped her fingers on the side of the laptop. “Whatever it is,” she said, “we’re wasting time. I’m still going to go find this ship. And I will go alone if I have to.” Now that she’d had the idea, she couldn’t shake it. It wasn’t like she was leaving permanently, so it’d be fine. She’d go out there, track down that damn ship, and come back with their Paladins. The others could play at universe saving, that was fine, but Pidge was not going to let them get further away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter!!
> 
> \- pidge wants to go already  
> \- bonds!!  
> \- lance fails at flirting; keith is so not jealous (except he is)
> 
>  
> 
> btw, if you're curious, khattala's "talk" with lance was basically her saying, "you're a fucking idiot imma teach you to shoot better"  
> yes. thats her pep talk.  
> thats it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fault in our bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi hello   
> massive apologies about the wait. holidays, seasonal depression, y'know how it is. but i'm back and im writing again and this is long whoops. thank you guys for reading this and leaving kudos and comments and bookmarking it because wow yes attention <3s
> 
> anyway, few things:  
> \- there's more of Khattala in this one than there has been lately. i am not sorry because i love her.   
> \- 'space related pickup lines' is now in my google search history  
> \- keith has admitted to himself that he likes lance, but he isn't quite there on admitting he wants to be with lance. that's important to understand his reactions to some things.   
> \- #langst for the soul

One quintant after the rendezvous with the alien fleet, Allura and Shiro had agreed to stay until the Galra showed again. According to the fleet captain, Galra scout ships and fighters had been periodically attacking them for the past few pheobs. “We’ve lost several of our cruisers,” she said. “Dozens of our own fighters. Hundreds of us, dead by the hands of those Galra.” She went on to explain that this fleet was a sizable portion of an entire species that had fled their planet due to constant warfare, a military run government, and increasingly volatile weather. It had taken them decaphoebs to get everything together, amass enough money and ships to leave, and now they had to deal with the Galra. 

“We just want to find a place to live safely,” the captain said. “Please. Help us.” 

It was a very serious situation. Required a lot of attention and work from every remaining member of Voltron. 

Pidge hated it. She was told to work with Coran, try and figure out a good planet to lead the fleet to, and she spent her time harboring bitter thoughts about these aliens. Why would they have left if they didn’t even have a place to go? Did they really think they could just fly around until something good happened? Or maybe they had always planned to call Voltron with some kind of sob story and the Galra just gave them a good reason. Whatever it was, there were better ways Pidge could be spending her time. The ship, that image of Lance - it ran through her mind on a constant loop. Made it hard to focus on analyzing planets when she kept looking at the numbers before her and wondering where her friends were now. What they were doing. If they were even still safe. 

By the end of that first quintant, her and Coran had lined up ten possible planets with a list of hundreds more to go through. It’d be up to the captain to pick one. 

Pidge bid Coran goodnight and headed back down to Green’s hanger. Her laptop had been running nonstop and she slid into her chair. Exhaustion pulled at her and she ignored it to scroll through what the program had found. She’d been scanning for the ship, for its name and the name of the owners. To her disappointment, the ship name had no hits. She dismissed those results and stared at the next, feeling herself falling asleep right there. 

A few doboshes later, she was ready to call it a night when she caught something that might actually prove useful. After pages of nothing but negatives on the owners, the program had caught one single signature. One of them, named Li’tyll, had spent a hefty amount of GAC on ship repairs. The location, someplace called Zaalyia, went straight into another program on the laptop. This one was linked with the Castle’s own universal map and was capable of scanning all known locations within tics. 

It took a little bit longer tonight, but eventually it finished and Pidge sent the results to her tablet. She was her feet and halfway to the door before she skidded to a stop, throwing the lion a look over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “We’re gonna get our friends.” 

Her first stop was the armory, where she changed into her armor as quick as possible. She ran from there, helmet in one hand and tablet in another, to the elevator and up further into the Castle. Inside, she jammed the helmet over her head and waited impatiently. The doors didn’t open fast enough when she reached where she was going, and she mashed on the button several times in quick succession. As soon as she was able, Pidge was sliding out the door and sprinting down the hall. 

Now that there was a solid starting point, Pidge was determined to head out tonight. She knew that Shiro and Allura would be against this entire idea - against leaving, mainly - so Pidge had one stop to make. One that should work out how she wanted. She stopped in front of Hunk’s door, heart pounding in her throat and breath coming fast. She yelled, “Hunk!”, slamming her fist on his door over and over and over. “Hunk, get up!” 

Through the door, she could hear him, his voice muffled so that she didn’t catch any words until he got closer. “ - ing, I’m coming. Is the Galra?” The door slid open in the middle of his next sentence, a frazzled and sleepy Hunk staring at her with wide eyes. “Are they attacking now? Is that why you’re in armor? Oh, man. I hate fighting in the middle of the night.” 

“It’s not the Galra,” Pidge said. 

“Oh.” He frowned, looking down at her armor and then picking at the collar of his pajamas with two figures. “Then what’s with the armor? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

In answer, Pidge held the tablet up for him to see. “This,” she said, tapping the screen with one finger, “is where we’re going.” 

Hunk looked at it, blinked, and then tilted his head to look at her again. “Okay. Why?” 

“That’s where the ship that took Lance went,” she said. “That’s where we’re starting our search for them. Somewhere we’ll actually be able to follow a trail instead of wandering around pointlessly.” She pulled the tablet back to her side. “Come on. Let’s get your armor and go.” 

Hunk didn’t move from his doorway. “You want to go alone?” he said. “I think we should get Shiro, too. Does he know about this yet?” 

Pidge shook her head. “No. And we’re gonna leave before he’s awake.” 

“What? Shiro should know.” He pointed at the tablet Pidge held. “If those people had Lance, they probably had Keith too. And Keith and Shiro are close. You can’t take off after him and not tell Shiro.” 

“I can,” she said, gritting her teeth, “and I will.” 

Hunk was silent for a few seconds. “Oookay,” he said. “New idea: We do this in the morning, so we have a full night’s sleep and a good breakfast. Oh!” His face brightened for a brief moment. “I gotta get some snacks too. Can’t really go on a rescue mission without snacks, y’know. So, yeah. Tomorrow sounds like a much better idea, see ya then!” He started to close the door and Pidge reached out to grasp his arm. 

“Hunk,” she said. “We have to go now.” At the blank look she got in return, she sighed. “Shiro and Allura won’t let us go right now. They’ll want to stay and help these aliens, and there’s no telling how long that’ll take! If we go now, we can be long gone before either of them get up! We’ll make progress, be closer than ever to finding them.” 

It was like a light went off in Hunk’s head. His eyes widened as she spoke and he let out a low ‘ohhh’ before nodding. “I forgot about the aliens,” he said. “You woke me up in the middle of the night with talk of Lance, and I forgot about the aliens we are literally here to help. Wow. Thanks for the reminder.” 

Pidge made a face. “Hunk. Focus. Get your armor. You can join me in Green. Her cloaking will make recon real easy.” 

Another few seconds of silence, of Hunk just staring like this wasn’t vitally important. Pidge gestured at him wordlessly, scowling, and he nodded. “Right,” he said. “Got it. Just, uh... Let me take care of something real quick, okay?” He pointed down the hall and Pidge glanced that way before back to him. “I’ll be ready in maybe ten minutes? Or less. Or more, I dunno.” 

“What could you have to do?” she asked. 

“Pidge! You’re asking me to go on a secret mission!” He gestured back down the hall again. “I need food and a bathroom break first.”

Pidge huffed a breath, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay. Make it quick.” 

Hunk nodded. “Yep, you got it.” 

With one last look at him, Pidge turned and headed back the way she’d come. She was back in Green’s hanger in less than two doboshes, and set to packing up her equipment. The tablet and laptop would come with her, along with chargers and extra cords. She carried it into Green’s cockpit, feeling the lion reverberating her own emotions back at her. Green could sense how impatient she was to get going. 

Once that was done, Pidge milled about impatiently, making sure Green was ready to go. She checked the lion’s leg joints, the thrusters, ran pre-flight checks that honestly didn’t matter because Green was sentient enough to warn her if something was off before she even sat down. When the door to the hanger opened, she had her back to it, wondering if she should pack up anything else that was scattered around the hanger. Most of it was various pieces of space junk or pieces of Altean tech, but what if turned out to be important space junk?

She heard the door sliding open and didn’t bother turning around. “Took you long enough,” she said. “Get over here and let’s go already.” 

The person that answered her was not Hunk.

“Pidge.” 

That was Shiro. 

“What are you doing?” 

She was glaring before she had even turned around, eyes flashing at Shiro before settling on the person beside him. “Thanks, Hunk,” she spat. 

Hunk was hovering just behind Shiro. He managed to look guilty. “Sorry,” he said. 

She only looked away from him when Shiro started talking. 

“You know you can’t do this,” he was saying. “We need you here.”

Impatient to move on, Pidge wasn’t really listening to him. She heard enough to get the gist of it and then tried to think of a way to make him leave. Maybe she could guilt him into it - imply he cared more for the aliens than he did for Keith or Lance - but that was too much. It’d be a huge lie, for one thing. 

Shiro was talking about these aliens, how Voltron was a team and Pidge was part of that team. He said, “We’ve already promised to help them,” and Pidge made a face. 

Voltron was a team? “What about Keith?” she said. “And Lance? Aren’t they part of the team too?” 

Shiro already looked tired. At Pidge’s words, he sighed and exhaustion seeped into his shoulders. “Pidge - “

“Why aren’t we going for them?” she interrupted. “These aliens can wait!” She’d already said all of this, but once she started, the words wouldn’t stop. “They’ve been fine on their own for months, they’ll be fine without us for a few more days.” Her hands were shaking and she curled them into fists. Green was purring softly in the back of her head, trying to soothe her. “These are our friends, Shiro. We have to get them, bring them back.” 

“We will.” 

“When? How much longer are we going to leave them out there?” 

“Soon. I promise.” He took a step forward and she immediately took one back. Behind him, Hunk was looking between the two of them, distress all over his face. Shiro said, “Let’s go back to bed, Pidge. We can talk about this in the morning.” 

Pidge shook her head. She was done with talking, with trying to convince Allura that this was more important than aliens. “No. I’m going after them, and I’ll go alone if I have to.” She started to turn back toward Green, spotted her helmet sitting on the table, and changed direction midstep. “No one else here seems to give a damn about them,” she murmured. 

Apparently she wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was because both Hunk and Shiro heard her. Hunk said, “Hey, that’s not fair,” at the same time Shiro said, “Pidge, you know that’s not true.” She stopped with a hand on her helmet to look at them - Hunk still look distressed, wide eyes turned in her direction. 

Shiro looked angry. Still more tired than anything, but… anger clouded his eyes. She stared at him and, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, he looked calmer. Pidge tore her gaze away, lifting the helmet and peering at her reflection in the visor. Dark shadows were building under her eyes, her hair a mess of tangled strands. She needed sleep, she realized with a jolt. 

“I’m sorry you think that way,” Shiro was saying, “but all of us care about them. We want them back safely. What you’re trying to do isn’t safe - for them, or for you.” 

Familiar tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes. She missed them, had a lead to follow them, but was too tired to fight for this any more. “I can handle it,” she said, stubborn refusal to back down. “Green will keep me safe.” 

Just a beat of silence, then Hunk spoke. “Like Blue and Red kept them safe?” 

The memory of Blue lying prone on a forest floor lit up behind her eyes. She scowled, raised a hand to wipe a rogue tear off her face. 

“It’ll be better if more of us follow this lead of yours,” Shiro said. “If you’ll just wait, we can all go. Allura can take the Castle there faster than it’d take Green to make it, and we’ll all help you search for them. It’s just a few more days, Pidge.”

“I could get a headstart,” she said. “You guys can catch up.” She refused to look at them, raising the helmet and pulling it over her head. 

“But what if you get hurt?” Hunk said. “You won’t have anyone to help you. We’ll be too far away to help.” 

“Hunk raises a good point,” Shiro said. “What will you do if you’re injured? There’s no telling what kind of place you’re going to end up, who you’ll find there, how they’ll treat you. We need you here, and you need us with you.” 

Pidge heard his footsteps start toward her again and backpedaled quickly towards Green. She didn’t stop until one hand rested on the lion’s giant leg. “I have plans and I can take care of myself. If you want to help me,” she said, “then get your lion and come with me.” She raised her head to catch Shiro’s gaze, held it with defiance even as she blinked back tears. “I’m not waiting around anymore. “

For a moment, Shiro was quiet. She thought that maybe he didn’t know how to proceed, maybe she’d won and could leave without his presence hanging over her. But then he said, quietly, “What are you going to do when you find them?” 

“Free them.” 

“How?”

Pidge patted Green’s leg with a pointed look at him. 

Shiro gazed up at the lion.

In the silence between the two of them, Hunk spoke up. He was still hanging back by the door, wringing his hands together. “But what if you get caught?” he said. “What if they’re hostile? Whoever has Lance and Keith, I mean. We can’t lose you too, Pidge.” 

Pidge glanced at him then back to Shiro then focused her gaze on the floor. She’d thought of that, and she planned to fight as hard as she could if it came down to it. 

Shiro picked up on Hunk’s train of thought. “He’s right. We can’t have three missing Paladins. Voltron can’t, and we, as people, definitely can’t. It’s hard enough without the boys as it is, Pidge. Don’t do this.” 

She clenched her hands into fists again, fingers scraping over Green’s metal leg. “But I have to,” she said. “It’s like you said. We don’t know where they are or who has them or anything. I have to find them.” Tears were falling again and she hated it. How was she supposed to stick to leaving when these two talked like this? As if thoughts of their missing friends wasn’t bad enough. 

“We’ll all find them,” Shiro said. “Together. Stay here.” He was advancing toward her again and this time she didn’t move, letting him set his hands on her shoulders. “C’mon, Pidge. Let’s go back to bed and we’ll tackle this in the morning.” 

Pidge took a shaky breath and shook her head. “I need to go,” she said, hardly more than a whisper. “I have to help them.”

“Hey,” he said, “how about this? Tomorrow morning, I’ll talk to Allura and see what we can do. We’ll have to help these guys out, but maybe I can work something out to get done faster.” He lowered his voice for a moment. “You know how much I want them back, right? Keith is basically my brother.” 

She raised her head to catch his eye. “Is he really?”

Shiro nodded. He released her shoulder to rub at his neck with his flesh hand. “He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s my brother. I need to know he’s okay.” 

Slowly, Pidge looked from him to Green. The lion’s mouth still hung open, ramp extended and waiting patiently for her to climb in. She thought of their missing friends, vanished into space and with so little to look for to find them. Then of Shiro and Keith being brothers, Shiro waiting here to finish Voltron’s work - and then Matt. Her own brother somewhere out there. A sharp pang dug into her heart and she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. But tomorrow, we ‘ll both talk to Allura.” 

Shiro gave her a grateful smile. “You got a deal,” he said.

If she could wait for a solid sign of Matt before heading to him, then she could stand to ease up a bit. Sleep more. More importantly, if Shiro could work while worrying for Keith, then Pidge could handle a few more days. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The first real fight after the tournament slated Keith and Lance against a pair of aliens they had faced before. Keith remembered very little about them; they were big, carried large rifles and one of them had a knife on his thigh. Ordinary stuff for the arena. Keith darted for cover while Lance jumped for the high ground - again, ordinary. For the most part, the fight felt like any other they had experience. There was nothing new and it felt as if Keith was on autopilot. 

That is, until the opponent he was facing down charged him. The alien, massive in size and with five horns circling its head, crouched down. The rifle was held against its chest. Keith watched it with a wary gaze, muscles tense, waiting for it to move. 

It was only two seconds before the alien started towards him, but it felt drawn out into a long pause. Keith readied to move and as soon as he lifted one leg, Lance yelped in his ears. It distracted him, he stumbled back instead of to the side, and reflexively glanced up to the pipes above him. He could make out nothing beyond the lights and before he could refocus, the weight and brute force of that huge alien slammed into him. 

The impact shoved Keith even further back, throwing him off balance. It almost knocked him over, his feet scrambling through the dirt and over rocks. The alien snatched his arm with its empty hand before he came to a stop. His shoulder popped as he suddenly came to a stop and the sword went clattering to the ground. Before he could adjust to the change - even think about what to do about it - the alien dropped its rifle and grabbed his waist. In one fluid motion, Keith was lifted into the air and thrown violently. He hit the ground and bounced, skidding over the rocks. Every second put him further from the sword, lying in the dirt by the alien’s feet. He couldn’t reach for the blade on his back until he stopped moving. 

Over the comms, Lance started talking: “Keith, are you alright?”

Every grunt and curse Keith had made since the alien moved, Lance had heard. Keith reached out to snag a boulder that was passing him. His fingers slipped off it, but his movement slowed and he was able to roll onto his hands and knees. “Having some trouble,” he said.

The alien was charging at him, already less than two feet away. 

“Lance, little help would be nice.” He reached behind him for the blade, fingers grasping the hilt - 

And then the alien slammed into him again, gripping him at his waist and making to throw him again. Keith snarled, twisted in its grip to dislodge himself. It didn’t work. The alien ignored anything he did and Keith once again found himself flying through the air.

“Give me just a minute,” Lance said, “and I’ll be right there to help.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He should hit the ground again any second now and he needed the blade out before that happened. He gripped its hilt, and made a sickening realization as he pulled it loose. 

The floor of the arena wasn’t rising to meet him. He was flying past it. Heart in his throat, Keith twisted to get a look behind him - nothing but a dark gaping pit. Instinct kicked in and he lunged, throwing his legs back and reaching for the edge of the arena. His gloved fingers scrapped over dirt, and in a desperate move, he swung his other arm up - the blade, already transformed, glinted in the overhead lights. It sank into the floor easily, jutting up an inch from the drop off. Keith’s weight dropped on it and, for the second time, his shoulder took the brunt of it, pain exploding down his arm. He grit his teeth, using the blade as leverage to grasp the floor with his other hand. 

Over the mic, Lance was cursing. 

Keith pulled himself up far enough to see into the arena. The alien was heading for him once again, rifle barrel pointed in his direction. He ducked down just in time, bullets spraying over him. “Lance!” 

“Hang on, buddy. I’m almost there!” 

“If that was a fucking pun,” Keith growled, “I’m going to kill you.” 

“What?” 

The blade shifted, tilting further toward the pit. Keith felt himself drop an inch and his stomach flipped. “Just hurry up!”

The words had only just made it past his lips when a heavy foot landed on his fingers. He bit back a scream and snatched his hand loose. Staring down at him, the alien’s face split in a wide grin. Keith glared at it, wrapping his other hand around the blade, digging his feet into the wall. He made to pull himself up, launch himself at the alien’s waist, but then the alien raised its foot to the blade. Keith sucked in a breath; the alien pushed down on the sword. 

“Lance.” It came out as a shaky whisper. “Seriously.” 

Under the alien’s weight, the blade was hanging over the arena’s edge. Keith lost his footing against the wall of rock and dirt and scrambled for purchase again. His heart was practically thundering, arms shaking as fear and adrenaline raced side by side through his veins. Lance said something he didn’t hear because the alien chose that moment to stomp on the blade. It shook, Keith slipped for an instant - and then he fell. 

He forgot how to breathe then. How to think, how to speak. He could only stare, wide-eyed and frightened, at the alien’s delighted grin. 

Seconds passed, dragging by too slow to feel real. 

And then a dark figure collided with the alien feet first - Lance, sniper on his back. He pushed off the alien’s back, using it to launch himself right over the edge. The alien swung for him as he did, missing him as Lance fired the jetpack and soared toward Keith. One arm stretched out for Keith, and he looked past it to Lance’s eyes. Lance’s hand closed around his wrist and then he was slowing, Lance pulling him up until they were hovering beside one another. 

“How’re you doing?” Lance asked. 

Keith only shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he could speak yet, the fear still running at high speeds. Slowly, he became aware of the pain throbbing in his shoulder, of the way each breath shook as he released. Of Lance’s arm around his waist, the concern in his friend’s eyes. Keith looked away from Lance, staring at the wall ahead and forcing himself not to glance below them. “I almost died,” he said.

Lance’s grip around his waist tightened. “Lucky I’m here then.” 

Keith looked back at him. Lance was smiling, as usual, but his eyes were flickering over Keith. Like he was looking for something. “I’m not hurt,” Keith said. Except his shoulder, but that was minor. 

Before Lance could answer, the noise of gunfire from above startled them both. Without thinking, Keith raised his injured arm, shield springing to life and blocking the attack. He hissed, wincing as the impact traveled through his armor to circle his shoulder. Lance shot him another look filled with concern. “Alright,” he said, “Hang on tight. We’re goin’ up, and we’re going up fast.” 

Keith had enough time to shoot the other boy a questioning glance before they jolted forward, jetpack working at full strength. Startled, Keith dropped his arm, shield blinking away. He wrapped that same arm around Lance’s neck before activating the shield again. Bullets hit them in the short time it was down, slamming into their armor. 

They reached the surface faster than Keith expected. Each of them stumbled for a couple steps before crouching behind a rock. Lance had a hand on Keith’s shoulder even as he peeked around the corner of it. Keith looked him over, suddenly envious of the gun slung across Lance’s back. “I can only see one of them,” Lance said, leaning back behind the rock. “We need to find the other one.” 

“And get me a weapon,” Keith added. 

Lance said, “Dude. You  _ have _ a weapon.” 

“No, I don’t. Both of my swords are lying in the dirt over there.” 

“There’s a gun on your hip!:

Keith stared at him, then slowly reached down and felt the pistol that was still lodged in its holster. He blinked. “I don’t even know how to use it,” he said as he pulled the gun out. The bright red paint was obnoxious next to his black armor. 

Lance started to say something and then the missing alien dived around the rock they were behind. Instead of talking, Lance shrieked as bright, angry laser fire lit up his side. “Holy shit, move!” he yelled. He pushed Keith at the same time he jumped to his own feet. Keith took off for a nearby piece of cover. From there, he led Lance from cover to cover until they were hunkered down behind the old crane close to their entrance. 

Lance was panting, a hand over his side. The sniper lay in his lap, his other hand over its barrel. “Okay,” he said between breaths. “Now what?”

“Shoot them,” Keith said. “What else?” He gestured at the sniper in Lance’s lap and watched his friend groan before sitting up straighter. As Lance steadied the rifle on a jutting piece of metal, peering through the scope, Keith glanced around their immediate surroundings. There were no signs of the aliens and that set him on edge. He was gripping the pistol tight in his hands but couldn’t shake the knowledge that he had no real idea how to use it.

The next few seconds were silent, neither of them daring to move. Then Lance fired. As if the sound had triggered it, an alien charged around a slab of metal to Keith’s left. It was the one that had thrown him off the arena and it held Keith’s blad in one huge fist. His anger skyrocketed the instant he laid eyes on it. The alien ran for them and Keith raised his pistol and fired, four shots in a row. 

Two missed entirely. 

One dug into the alien’s leg, the other into its torso. It didn’t even pause, rushing them both with the knife raised. 

Keith pulled the trigger again, snapping for Lance to focus on what was in front of them. The gun didn’t fire and he had a brief moment to wonder why the damn thing only had four bullets loaded in it before the alien crashed into him. For the third time, Keith was sent backwards, but this time he fell into Lance who responded with a pained whimper and a curse. Keith ignored him, throwing the gun aside and rolling off his partner. 

He meant to engage the alien in hand-to-hand. There was no way he’d be able to win such a fight, but he knew he could disarm it, get his blade back, maybe turn the fight around. Instead, the alien attacked his viciously and all he could do was dodge the blade. Lance was screaming for someone to get off of him. Reflexively, Keith found himself turning toward Lance - he knew immediately he’d messed up. He took his eyes off a fight, left himself in danger - 

He got one second to look at the alien holding a gun to Lance’s head, and then a hit he should have dodged connected. Keith was hit in the head, hard, and crumpled to the ground. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Without a doubt, it was the most embarrassing fight Keith had had in a long time. He’d been knocked unconscious because he looked at Lance for one goddamn second, and apparently, Lance had struggled against the two aliens for several minutes before he too was finally taken out. A stupid end to a fight that should have been an easy win.

They were in the training room now, a medic attending to several gunshots and laser burns along Lance’s side. Each of them had already taken their armor off, but while Keith had changed out of the flightsuit, Lance wore his around his waist. The medic was prodding at him with something that resembled an oversized metal thermometer while Keith watched. 

Just to make sure his friend wasn’t too badly injured.

The medic said, “You’ll live,” and turned away to pack up his things.

Lance frowned at the alien’s back. “But it hurts,” he said. 

The medic didn’t reply. 

Lance threw an annoyed glance Keith’s way, coupled with a complicated gesture at the alien. Keith rolled his eyes and deliberately kept his attention off of Lance. Now that the medic was finished, he’d be leaving soon which meant Lance would be changing. Keith focused on the door instead, arms crossed over his chest, and waited. 

It was inevitable. A loss was followed by Avilus lecturing them. This one was directly Keith’s fault: he had been disarmed, tossed of the arena - which forced Lance off the highground, couldn’t use one of his provided weapons correctly, and had let himself be distracted at a key moment. There was no other conclusion Avilus could make and Keith was going to take all the alien’s usual bullshit without so much as a word. 

Avilus was so thrilled when they were affected by what he said it was like he got off on it. Despite how much Keith may or may not agree this time, he didn’t want to give the alien the satisfaction of making him angry. 

The door slid open and Avilus stomped in just as Lance was pulling his boots back on. He stood with a jolt, stumbling over his own feet before standing by Keith. As per usual, Avilus looked them both over before he started speaking. It was exactly what Keith had expected. Avilus said the match was a disaster, that Keith had made far too many mistakes. He tossed out one half-assed compliment about Lance saving Keith, but everything else was insults and degradation. 

Then Avilus’s attention was on Lance. He said, “Now. Why don’t you explain what happened to your gun?” 

Keith glanced at Lance. 

Lance sighed, his gaze on the floor. “I dropped it,” he said. 

After a beat, Avilus said, “You dropped it. A highly expensive, custom made rifle. And you dropped it.” 

Lance’s only response was a nod. 

Avilus took a step toward Lance and Keith broke his own promise not to speak. He jerked towards Lance, snapping at the alien before he could stop himself. “It’s not like he meant to.” The alien’s dark eyes flicked to him and Keith grit his teeth, told himself to shut up. The words forced themselves out. “We both know I’m the reason we lost. You want to yell about misplaced weapons?” He gestured with one arm to the crate for their weapons, currently lacking two swords. “I lost both my blades.” 

“I am well aware,” Avilus said. Each word dripped venom. Still, he reached out without looking and grasped Lance with one hand. “But I’m busy with your partner here.” 

Keith glanced at Lance again. He was standing stiffly, tugging on his arm. Distress lined his face. Keith muttered a curse to himself, taking another step forward. “Lance did nothing wrong,” he said. “Why are you doing this?” 

Eyes still on Keith, Avilus bent Lance’s arm at a sharp angle. Keith didn’t need the badly stifled whimper from Lance to tell him that hurt. Keith winced, fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to pull Lance to him. Getting in Avilus’s way right now had two results - either Lance was injured worse or both of them would be hurt. Neither was good. 

“Your swords have been collected from the arena floor,” Avilus said. “The rifle, however… Guards are still searching for it.” He gave Keith a smirk before looking back at Lance. “Funny how hard it is to look for a weapon that could be on vents, on pipes, lodged in rocks… What if it fell off the arena entirely, Lance? Did you think about that when you dropped it?” 

Lance tried to take a step back but Avilius held him in place, made it so his feet merely skidded along the floor. “I had to get to Keith!” he said. He wasn’t meeting the alien’s eyes. “One of them was shooting me, but Keith was in danger. I dropped the gun and ran. I didn’t think about it at all.” 

“You should be commended for that,” Avilus said. “Not many would abandon their weapon and their view of the arena to help their partner.” 

At his words, Keith shot him a confused look, glancing back to Lance. The look on Lance’s face matched what Keith felt, though there was still apprehension mixed in. Lance’s eyes darted to Keith for one, bewildered look and the fear there was clear.

Something in Keith’s gut lurched and took flight all at once. 

Lance was afraid of Avilus. Keith supposed he knew that, on some level, but that look cemented it. He’d taken a step forward without noticing, already saying the alien’s name, some half-hearted plea on his lips to let Lance go. 

Then Avilus moved with a speed someone his size shouldn’t have. He kept his grip tight on Lance’s arm and lashed out, other hand twisted into a fist. He punched Lance twice, one hit after the other, directly into the side that had been lit up with laser fire. Lance screamed, a sound he choked back as soon as he could, snapping his jaw shut. He buckled over at the waist, held up mainly by his arm still in Avilus’s grasp. 

As for Keith, he had frozen mid-step, glaring at Avilus and wishing his anger alone could bore holes in the massive alien’s head. 

Avilus let Lance go and scoffed as Lance immediately wrapped his arms around his waist. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “Take better care of your weapons, boy.” He turned on Keith then, marching over with purpose. There was a gleam to his eyes that sparked, something dark and sadistic and pleased, and it had Keith easing back just slightly. 

He tensed, waiting for the alien to hit him as well.

But Avilus merely leaned over into Keith’s face, smirked, and said, “Don’t lose me anymore matches.” He left the room without word. 

Keith stood where he was, blinking away tendrils of anger. Part of him was still confused, still wanting to understand why Avilus had just done what he’d done - why attack Lance over a lost weapon, but leave Keith unharmed for all his mistakes? - but he ignored it. He pushed himself to move, to go to Lance’s side but once there, his hands just hovered uselessly over Lance’s shoulders. “Lance…?”

“I fucking hate him,” Lance hissed. He kept going under his breath, but all of it was in Spanish.

Frowning, Keith laid his hands on Lance’s shoulders and squeezed lightly. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s a dick.” 

✦✦✦✦✦

That night couldn’t come fast enough. Lance spent the remainder of the day in a stupor that had him lashing out at Keith and trying to bait him into arguments. Keith refused to do so and stared him down each time until Lance sighed and rolled his eyes. They spent dinner in silence, Keith even motioning for the twins to stay away when they tried to approach. All Lance did then was poke at his food, his eyes downcast and his mouth set in a thin line. In the dorms, the alien chatter was enough to keep a thin veil of privacy. 

Lance sat down at the edge of Keith’s bunk to remove his boots. He did this most nights, though whether he stayed or climbed up to his own bed was a toss-up. Tonight, Keith scooted close to him, sitting on his knees. “I know you’re angry about it,” he said quietly. Lance’s hands stilled on his boot when Keith spoke. “And I get why. You didn’t do anything wrong today.” 

He didn’t deserve to be hit like that. 

Lance turned his head to peer at Keith over his shoulder. “Then why’d he do it?” he asked. “What’s that guy got against me?”

Keith could only shrug. “How would I know? Not like I can read his mind.” At that, Lance rolled his eyes and turned away again. With a sigh, Keith fought for the right words. “I just meant that you - you shouldn’t get so caught up on this.” That wasn’t good enough. “You shouldn’t let Avilus get to you.” Not good either. Lance was tugging his boots off, the thumps as they hit the floor quiet. “I mean, I know - I know it’s hard. Things like this stick with you, but, really, you’ve got no reason for it to - uh, I mean - you shouldn’t - “

“Keith.” 

He stopped midword, mouth shutting with a snap. 

Lance had turned to face him again, one hand behind him, close to Keith’s thigh. “Stop talking before you hurt yourself.” 

Keith made a face.

Lance spared him a brief, wane smile. It vanished in a second. “Besides, Avilus being a dick isn’t what bothers me. He’s always been a dick.” He shrugged, looking away from Keith for a moment. When he looked back, another smile was on his face and it looked more believable than the last. “Nice of you to care, though. At least, I assume that trainwreck was you being caring.” 

“Don’t be an ass,” Keith said. “If that’s not it, then what’s wrong with you?” 

For a brief moment, Lance looked like he was really going to answer that. But then he tilted his head and smirked. A playful look that was entirely disconnected from how dark his eyes were. “You think I’m gonna reveal all my secrets to you? C’mon, Keith. That’s easily, like, level ten friendship privileges.” 

Keith stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Level ten - ?”

Lance raised the hand not planted on the bed to poke Keith directly between his eyes. “You’re like a level three, if you were curious.” 

With a scowl, Keith swatted his hand away. “Whatever. Keep your secrets.” He tried to ignore the brief chuckle from Lance but it warmed his chest like always. Stupid emotions, stupid attraction, stupid Lance. Keith turned from the other boy to lay down, easing his legs underneath the thin blanket. He shifted for a few seconds, getting as comfortable as he could, and then found himself watching Lance again. Waiting to see where he’d decide to spend the night. 

It seemed to be something Lance was debating. He kept craning his head up to stare above him and then back to Keith’s bed. Soon enough, he had shrugged one shoulder and crawled forward to lay beside Keith. Like many nights before, except this time he was closer than before. Keith squinted at him in the dark, but Lance was gazing at his own hand as his fingers traced patterns over the sheets. 

Overhead, the lights shut off, casting the barracks into the near complete darkness, the signal for them to go to sleep. 

Keith whispered, “Uh, Lance?” 

The only response he got was the feeling of Lance touching his arm, fingers light and warm. It wasn’t unusual, exactly - sometimes, Lance did this. Reached across the gap between them to hold onto Keith’s wrist or his hand. It always made Keith’s heart trip in his chest, made heat flare in his face. Tonight, the touch on his arm stilled when he spoke and then the fingers slid over his arm until Lance’s palm was flat against his skin. 

“Can we just sleep?” 

Keith blinked into the darkness, willing his eyes to cooperate and adjust. Slowly, he could make out Lance lying beside him. He had the idea that, even if Lance couldn’t see it, his eyes were on where his hand lay. 

“Don’t wanna talk,” Lance added. 

So Keith didn’t respond. He lay there, his eyes on Lance’s face, wishing he could see more details. The hand on his arm moved over his skin, until Lance’s hand was easing into his own. This time, Keith intertwined their fingers, trusting the dark to hide the heat flaring over his face when Lance squeezed his hand tight. They stayed that way, hands clasped between them, and Keith let himself drift. Moments before he fell asleep, he felt Lance’s other hand close around his wrist. He heard the mattress creak as the other boy moved closer to him, and then he slept. 

When he woke, it felt too early. Someone was murmuring closeby, their voice low and tinged with irritation. It was annoying and made Keith try to bury himself deeper into the bed to get away from it. He wanted whoever it was to shut up so he could sleep more, but now that he was awake, he doubted that would happen. Rarely did Keith get the luxury of falling back asleep. 

That didn’t mean he had to move, however. He didn’t even have to open his eyes. Sometime in the night, he had curled his arms around his pillow. The blanket twisted around his legs and his waist, something that would have been uncomfortable if he weren’t so warm. He wasn’t going to move until he absolutely had to. 

The longer he laid there, the more obvious it became that he was wrong about one thing. While one arm was tucked under his pillow, the other rested against something harder. Something that moved. 

It hit him suddenly.

Lance.

Lance had been beside him last night and Lance was still beside him now. 

With a small frown, Keith cracked his eyes open to make sure and - yeah, that was Lance alright. And that was Keith’s arm, touching his friend’s chest, his fingers loosely clutching his shirt. Keith pulled his arm away with a jerk and made to sit up. But then he stopped, eyes opening wide as he realized just how close they were. 

Barely more than three inches separated them and that alone had Keith’s heart tripping itself up. He stared at Lance’s face - the clear skin, brown hair, how peaceful he looked asleep - and a pathetic whine eased out of Keith’s tightly closed lips. He pressed his hands, carefully and lightly against Lance’s chest and pushed. 

An arm tightened around his waist and he froze, tensing as Lance grumbled in his sleep. Keith was tugged closer until his hands were flat against Lance’s chest. Shit. He hadn’t even noticed the arm around his waist but now it was impossible to ignore. The weight of it, the heat spreading from where they touched, and - Lance shifted again and it was like his whole body angled toward Keith. A part of him surely died as one last thing fell into place.  

It made sense why the blanket was so tangled. Lance had joined him underneath the blanket during the night and now Lance’s legs were hooked with Keith’s own and the blanket a mess around them. 

Another frantic noise shot out of Keith, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it’d fly out of his chest. His face was on fire and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he needed to find a way out of this without waking Lance up. But a small, traitorous part of his mind, the one occupied with stupid feelings and an even stupider crush on this idiotic boy, said otherwise. 

Stay, it told him.

It was comfortable here. Warm. Felt safe, even. 

Like being hugged but better. 

Keith wanted to punch the thoughts out of his own head. He screwed his eyes shut, making a face in the process, and tried to calm himself down. He only succeeded in holding his breath pointlessly, letting the air out when Lance mumbled something in his sleep. Something low and Spanish that rocked sense into Keith. He needed to move and he needed to move now. 

He reached behind him with one hand to grasp Lance’s arm and pulled. 

Immediately, Lance gave an annoyed grunt and one clear word emerged from the Spanish. “Keith.”

Keith stopped. He let go of Lance and brought his hand back to his front and gave up. How the hell was he supposed to do anything after that? He told himself it was the prospect of Lance waking up that had him so alarmed - that the sheer idea of all the embarrassment that’d create for them both was too much to risk it. That it had nothing at all whatsoever to do with hearing Lance mutter his name in his sleep. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Morning found Lance sitting in front of the medic. The stout alien stood by a low table, tinkering with tools and sending Lance a dirty look every now and then, like this was his fault. Which it very much was not. It hadn’t even been Lance’s idea. 

After Lance had awoken (and had unwrapped himself from a thankfully still asleep Keith), the aches of Avilus’s fists had made themselves known. He winced getting up from the bunk, and though he’d tried to hide the discomfort and pain from Keith at breakfast, it must have shown anyway. Which led to Keith stalking through the halls of the arena with Lance at his heels. Lance said he was fine, that a little burns from some lasers were nothing, but Keith ignored him. 

Keith found Khattala and explained the situation. She had looked at both of them in turn and then just stared at Lance expectantly. “He seems fine,” she said after a few tense seconds.

“See there?” Lance said, nudging Keith. “I’m fine. Let’s go find the twins. I think they wanted to teach us a new game and -  _ ow!”  _

Keith had decided the best course of action was to elbow Lance in his side. He did it way too hard, for one thing, and it was right along the burning gunshots and newly formed bruises. Lance couldn’t blame himself for the hiss of pain or the seething glare he sent to Keith. Of course, the asshole only smirked at him and waved as Khattala pulled him away toward the stairs. 

Which led to now, with Lance enduring the medic’s annoyed grumbles and Khattala standing nearby, examining the blade of a dagger that looked suspiciously like Keith’s. She was using it for show, he knew that much. The moment the medic opened the door, Khattala’s every move and every word was orchestrated to make the medic fear her. It seemed a bit over the top, but it worked. The medic had been dismissive of Lance until she started behaving this way. 

It didn’t take too long. The medic, under Khattala’s unblinking glare, handed over a small tube. It reminded Lance of the medicine he’d been given when he and Keith first arrived and he took without a word. “There’s enough in there for two applications,” the medic said. “You don’t need anymore than that.” He dismissed Lance with a wave of his hand. 

Out in the hall, Lance glanced up at Khattala before shoving the tube into his pocket. “I still don’t think this was necessary,” he said. 

Khattala was leading him back to the stairwell and talked without looking at him. “I’m inclined to agree with you,” she said. “Arena slaves get many, many injuries and yours are not life threatening.” She paused as she pushed open the door, giving Lance a brief once over as he walked by her. “But I had nothing to do, your partner was insistent, and the medicinal cream should help you feel better.” 

Lance huffed out a breath. “I just don’t get why Keith’s so insistent about this,” he said, heading down the stairs. “Not like I haven’t been hurt worse.” 

Khattala didn’t respond right away. For a few seconds, the only noise was their footfalls - hers slightly heavier and accented by the quiet clink of shifting armor. Then, she said, “He’s worried about you. I thought you’d have known this by now.” 

He stopped two steps above the mid-floor to toss her a skeptical stare. “Keith?” 

She raised one hand to push at his shoulder, make him start moving again. “Do you have another partner I don’t know about?” 

“You sure we’re talking about the same Keith here?” He resisted her push until her ears twitched and her lips quirked downward. Then he sighed, throwing his hands up in a symbol of surrender. “Fine. Whatever. Keith’s worried. Who cares.” 

As they continued back down, she muttered, “You are strangely dense to how he feels.” 

“I am not dense!”

Khattala ignored him. “Have you always been this way? Don’t you ever try and see how he’s feeling?” 

They had reached the second floor landing by now. Rather than go out into the hall, Lance turned to stare at her. “Why are you asking me this?” He hadn’t really expected an answer - mostly, he was just confused. Khattala never cared to talk about his feelings or her own and rarely brought up Keith. Whatever time he spent around her was dominated by training and gun talk - and, occasionally, she’d recount a particularly interesting plot in her little alien soap opera show. 

Standing before him now, Khattala’s ear twitched twice before drooping slightly. Her eyes darted away from him, though she held onto the same bored expression as always otherwise. “Nothing, really.” 

Lance stared at her as if he could force the truth out of her. 

And after a brief moment of silence, she relented with a sigh. “Okay. Alright.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him in a way that reminded him so much of Keith it was uncanny. “You two idiots were fighting recently, remember?”

“Ugh,” was his only response. How could he forget that mess? Lance had been so convinced that Keith’s injury was his fault - and he still hadn’t let go the guilt, not entirely - and then Keith had said some things to him that made his stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t be able to. He was really trying to forget it. 

Khattala nodded. Her eyes were back on Lance. “Yes. That. I had told Keith to work on comforting you - “

Lance’s brain screeched to a halt at that. He stared at her, eyes wide and mouth falling open. She did what.

“ - and I thought only he was this stupid.” She lifted one hand to wave at him. “Clearly, I was wrong and it’s both of you that are stupid. Is this really how humans interact? Is everyone in your species unaware of how those close to them feel?”

He didn’t even listen to all of that. “Woah, hang on,” he said, holding both hands up to her. “Back up. You told Keith to do what now?” 

Her brow furrowed. “To comfort you,” she said slowly. “He wasn’t sure how, but I assume he figured it out.” 

“Wh- Why!?”

She tilted her head, ears twitching until one was higher than the other. “Because… you two are partners. And partners should know how to help one another.” 

Lance groaned, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. What the hell was this now? He thought back to what Keith had told him, the (oddly endearing) way he’d said it. All that awkwardness and stumbling over his words made everything Keith said sound so real. ...But now he knew Khattala had basically advised Keith to do it. “What the fuck, ‘Tala,” he said, voice quiet. He dropped his hands to frown at her. 

She looked utterly confused. “What? It worked, didn’t it? You sorted things out and stopped fighting.” 

“Well, yeah, but - “ 

“But what?” 

But now everything Keith had said that day felt hollow. 

When he didn’t say anything else, Khattala simply rolled her eyes. “Right. I have work to do. You have a fight. Get out of the stairwell and get yourself ready.” She brushed by him, leaving the door hanging open.  

Lance took a deep breath before following her. This was going to hang over his head all day but that was fine, he was fine. So what if Keith didn’t actually think he was a great shot? It wasn’t like Lance cared what Keith thought. Keith’s opinion was worth nothing. He repeated that to himself on the way to the lounge, where he found Keith in the middle of another weird alien card game. 

It was a different one from any Lance had played before - but, then again, he didn’t know any of these aliens. He peered over Keith’s shoulder, then at the various aliens around the table. “What is this?” he asked. 

Keith glanced at him, then immediately back to the cards. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Too late to explain it to you.” 

Lance made a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Means we can’t deal you in,” one of the aliens said. Its voice sounded like it regularly gargled with rocks. 

“Did I say I wanted to play?” Lance muttered.

The only one that heard him was Keith, and Keith’s response was bored and uninterested. “You wouldn’t ask for any other reason.” He pulled two cards loose from his hand and tossed them facedown onto the table. “Since you can’t play, you might as well go.” 

“Y’know, that’s a bit rude, Keith.” 

“You hovering over me is distracting. Go.” 

Lance crossed his arms, gazing down at the table. The alien across from Keith, a slender thing that Lance thought they may have fought before, placed their entire hand faceup. All the other aliens peered at it and immediately two of them dropped their hands, quitting. “Where are the twins?” Lance asked. “I thought they’d be here.” 

Keith grumbled a curse, low in his throat.

One of the aliens that had quit asked, “Who are these twins?”

“Y’skai and U’ilani,” Lance said.

“They left to fight,” Keith said. Every word was tinged with irritation. He reached for a stack of cards in the center of the table, drew five of them, and then stared at the alien’s hand still lying faceup. 

The twins’ weren’t here and Keith was being a dick (and maybe didn’t even like Lance but that was another issue). “What the hell am I supposed to do?” Lance asked. 

“Go annoy someone else for once,” was Keith’s answer. “I’m trying to concentrate.” 

Lance glared at him. “Fine,” he said. “We’ve got a fight today, by the way. I guess someone will come find you when it’s time.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

Lance left with one last hiss of, “Asshole.” He knew Keith heard it and he was also positive that Keith didn’t care. That was fine. Lance was great at making friends, he didn’t need or want to hang out with Keith - in fact, since Keith clearly cared so little for his company, Lance should definitely find other people to talk with. Let Keith play card games without him, who cared? 

Unfortunately, most of the arena’s fighters tended to hang around the lounge when they weren’t fighting. And since Lance didn’t feel like putting up with Keith right now, that didn’t leave a lot of options. 

He headed for the hall past the arena door, planning to find where Khattala had disappeared. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d be free and willing to hang out until his fight. Or maybe she was training someone and would let Lance jump in too. At least that would keep him busy and help empty his head. The only thing he could think about was how annoying Keith was and how he really needed more friends here - and that, in turn, led him to how of course Keith was annoyed and didn’t want to hang out with him. Keith didn’t think he was good in a fight, Keith probably blamed him for that injury, Keith was probably tired of him always being around. 

Right now, Lance was annoying himself. He blamed the constant loop of a stupid mulletheaded boy. 

It only took him a few minutes to locate Khattala. She was exiting the guard barracks when Lance caught sight of her, a rifle over her shoulder. When he walked up to her, she said, “Shouldn’t you be bothering your partner right now?” 

Lance had painted a smile on before going up to her, and it faltered just a touch now. Bit too close to the truth. “I don’t have to be around Keith all the time,” he said. 

She started down the hall, eyes flicking to him as he fell in step beside her. “You usually are,” she said. “A lot of us guards just assumed you two come together.” Then she screwed up her nose, ears tilting back on her head. “Oh, no. You’re not fighting again are you? If you are, you’re not allowed to follow me. I am not afraid to pull status on you just to get away from that nonsense.” 

“Calm down. We’re not fighting.” What did it say about Lance if she immediately thought that? He wasn’t aware he had been around Keith that much, but it just made it more clear that he was right. New friends were a good idea. 

Hey, no better time to start than now. 

To Khattala, he said, “Can’t I just want to spend more time with a beautiful girl?” 

The look she shot him was incredibly unimpressed. 

It was a look Lance was very familiar with, seeing as literally everyone on the Castle had leveled that look at him at one point or another. He shrugged it off most days but doing so usually involved finding someone else to talk with - and since he didn’t have that right now… “Okay, look,” he said. “The twins are fighting and Keith’s busy. Just thought I’d spend my time hanging out with you.” He flashed her a winning smile only to find that she was no longer looking at him.

Khattala was unlocking a door, placing her hand on the pad until it slid open. “I have things to do today,” she said, taking a step inside.

He followed her, gazing around. Unlike the shooting range she usually brought him to, this one had shelves lined up in neat rows. Boxes and crates and loose weaponry filled every inch of shelving. “Woah. What’s this place?” 

“Armory,” she said. 

Lance moved toward the nearest shelf and peered at a whip, coiled it on itself and around a large gun. Judging by the grip of it alone, that gun was not made for anything humanoid. “This is so cool,” he said, voice quiet. “This is all weapons?” 

“And armor,” Khattala said. Her voice drifted away as she went further into the room and Lance hurried along to catch up to her. He was looking from one shelf to the next, glancing at deadly swords, guns, whatever was left out instead of packed away. 

“This place is huge,” he said.

“It holds every weapon the slaves use, every rifle issued to the guards, and armor for everyone.” She turned down an aisle and kept walking until she reached the very end of it. Next to the wall, she yanked a crate off of the middle of a shelf and cracked it open. Inside, unfamiliar guns were stacked on top of strange armor. Khattala pulled out a pair of pistols that she laid on the shelf in front of her, then a large and bulky gun she had to lift with both arms. After a beat, she turned to Lance. “Hold this,” she said, shoving it at his chest. “Might as well make use of you.” 

Lance stumbled, struggling to get a grip on the gun. It was far heavier than any he’d ever used. “Whose gun is this?” he said, frowning down at it. 

“That isn’t your business,” she said. She had pulled holsters out of the crate and was busy strapping them to her thighs. “Just hold onto it for me.” 

“I don’t think this was made with humans in mind,” he grunted. 

She paused to shoot him a besumed glance. “Of course it wasn’t,” she said. The pistols went into the holsters and then she was lifting the crate back onto the shelf. “Barely anyone out here even knows your planet exists.” 

“That’s comforting.” Too bad the Galra already knew Earth existed. Life would be easier if purple aliens hadn’t come to prance around in his galaxy. “Can you take this now?” 

Khattala turned to face him now that the crate was back in its place. She gave him a quick once over and then sighed. “You Earthlings,” she said, reaching to take the gun back, “are so weak.” 

“Hey!”

She brushed by him, grunting as she lifted the gun up onto one shoulder. “I assume Keith is stronger seeing as he is half Galra.” 

Lance muttered an insult under his breath. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Keith. “Yeah, great for him,” he said, following her back to the door. They had barely turned out of the aisle before he had changed the subject. “How do you even find anything in here? There’s so many boxes.” 

“Aisles are numbered,” she said. 

He blinked and looked at the shelves they were passing. “They are?”

“Near the top. Your translator doesn’t work on written text, so you couldn’t read them even if you wanted to.” 

Somehow, even when she helping, Khattala managed to sound bored and condescending. Lance made a face at the back of her head and then glanced back at the shelves. Up near the top, in black script, were symbols that looked like scratches. Alien numbers. Huh. “So… where’s our stuff then? Mine and Keith’s, I mean.” 

“Row fourteen,” she said after a moment's pause. “And no, you aren’t going to go look for it.” 

Damn. “I didn’t even say anything.” 

Khattala paused at the door to look over her shoulder. Due to the gun, all Lance could make out was one yellow eye staring at him. “I had a feeling,” she said. The door slid open and she stepped to the side, gesturing for Lance to leave first. He did and then, almost immediately, another guard was stalking up to them.

Like Khattala, this guard wasn’t wearing a helmet. He reminded Lance of a bird fused with a reptile. Scaly skin and wide eyes, but with a crown of feathers and an extended snout like a beak. “Khattala,” he said. It came out like a growl. “Did you take that slave into the armory with you?” 

Khattala looked at Lance, then back at the other guard. Her expression didn’t change from mild disinterest. “Yes.” 

The guard’s lip curled, exposing a line of sharp teeth. “Slaves aren’t supposed to go in the armory,” he said. “What were you thinking?”

“That one guy can’t do anything in that room without me noticing,” she said flatly. “Now move. I need to go that way.” 

The guard deliberately stepped forward, right in her way. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

Khattala murmured something the translator didn’t pick up on - as always, Lance just assumed that meant she was cursing. She adjusted her grip on the massive gun before speaking. “I don’t have time for this,” she said. “I have a job to do, slaves to train. I’m sure you’ve got something. Maybe standing guard in the cafeteria, that seems close to your level of work.” 

The guard snarled again. “I outrank you,” he snapped. 

“Congratulations,” Khattala deadpanned. Her ears were twitching. “I have more seniority. People fear me. They respect me. No one cares about you. Do you even have a name? I’ve been referring to you as Guard Forty-Five for movements and no one’s corrected me.” While she talked, the other guard sputtered for a response. The rage wasn’t visible on his scaled face, but it was obvious nonetheless. “No one would even care if I shot you with this gun right now.” She’d had the gun trained on the other guard from the very beginning but he just now glanced at it. “Well - other than whoever had to clean up the mess.” 

She stood where she was for a few seconds longer, the guard staring her down. Lance glanced between the two of them, biting back a grin. 

Finally, Khattala said, “Pleasure talking to you,” and sidestepped the guard. This time, he let her pass and Lance followed. 

He may have winked at the guard as he passed. The flurry of angry snarls and remarks of ‘insubordinate slave’ made him grin. “That was awesome,” he told Khattala. They stopped halfway down the hall where she laid her hand next to another sealed door. Lance leaned against the wall next to her to catch her eyes..  “Are you always this cool, or are you just showing off for me?” 

In response, Khattala tilted her head slightly. “What… is that supposed to mean?” she asked. “What is ‘cool’? Because I feel like you don’t mean temperature.” 

The door opened in front of her but she didn’t move to go inside. 

Lance frowned. He hadn’t thought about this happening - kind of made it hard to flirt if she didn’t even understand. “It… No, I don’t mean temperature.” 

“Then what?” 

He never would have guessed he’d spend his free time trying to explain human slang to an alien, but it was happening. Khattala let him into the training room with her and while she set up the weapons and the range for whoever was going to train, Lance talked. He more or less covered what he’d meant earlier, and she seemed to perk up a bit as she understood. She said she had impressed him and when he shrugged and agreed, she smirked. It was almost a smile and it was cute as hell. 

From there, it just spiraled. The aliens came in to train, Khattala got them started, and then Lance stood beside her and they talked. 

It certainly kept his mind off a certain idiot boy and the doubts that had been following him since yesterday. 

Eventually, though, another guard poked their head through the door. “Ah,” they said. “He is with you.” 

Khattala looked over. “You can take him,” she said. “He’s talking my ears off.” 

Lance winked at her. “Y’know you love it.” 

“I really don’t.” 

The guard pulled him away before he could respond, escorting him back the hall and to the same room as always. Keith was already there and he barely looked at Lance when he came in. He was wearing the flightsuit, armor already over his legs. “You’re late,” he said. “Avilus has already been in once. Said he was coming back, something about an important detail you needed to hear.” 

Lance had felt his spirits lifting while he’d hung around Khattala. At the very least, he’d gone from moping and annoyed to calm - which was a massive improvement. But all it took was one mention of Avilus and his stomach sank. He sighed, bending over to start pulling his armor from the crate. “Great,” he said. “Because I totally needed that asshole to insult me some more.” 

Keith was silent for a while. He didn’t speak again until Lance was fastening the flightsuit over his chest. “Where did you go anyway?” he asked. “I didn’t really expect you to leave the lounge.” 

“Found Khattala,” Lance said. He turned to look at Keith and found the other boy already focused on him. Keith had put on the rest of his armor, held his helmet in his hands, and those stupid dumb dark eyes stared into him. Lance laid a hand on his chest, forced a smile past the steadily increasing dread in his gut, and said, “Unlike someone here, she actually appreciates my company.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she does. Get your armor on.” 

“I’m getting to that.” He hadn’t even moved toward the pile of armor on the floor. “Did you know Khattala scares the other guards? It’s pretty cool, honestly. Like, she’s such a badass.” He watched Keith’s face screw up in a frown and decided to just lay it on extra thick. For fun. “I do love me a confident woman. Especially one who looks as hot as she does.” 

At that, Keith turned away from him completely, pulling his helmet on. “Whatever,” he said. 

Lance smirked and turned to his armor. Irritating someone else when he already felt like shit was satisfying. Especially when it was Keith. He recounted everything he’d done with Khattala while he put on his armor, from the armory to a detailed explanation of her threatening the other guard and was starting on how adorable it was that basic human slang confused her when Keith finally snapped at him. 

“Can you shut up?” 

Lance paused midword to smile brightly at him. He was almost finished with the armor, just two pieces left. “Sorry, what’s wrong?”

“If she’s so great, why don’t you talk to her more?” Keith said. He was glaring at Lance with a particularly sour expression. “Then you can give me some breathing room and I won’t have to hear all this bullshit.” 

The smile faded quickly. “That’s kinda rude, man.” 

“I’m tired of listening to this,” Keith said. “Just flirt with her like you want to and leave me out of it.” 

Lance stared at him but Keith had turned away again, this time to direct his glare at the door. The fun of annoying Keith had been stripped away and replaced with the harsh reminder that the only person Lance had here didn’t care about him. He went back to the armor, pulling a piece over his armor and said, quietly, “Maybe I will.” 

Maybe he’d get lucky and a pretty girl would flirt back for once. 

He didn’t have time for that lovely train of thought to get too far. The door opened almost the exact moment Lance snapped the last armor piece on his arm. He looked over to see Avilus and the dread he’d been feeling exploded through his gut. He grimaced, dropping his gaze to the floor immediately. 

“Boys,” Avilus said, his voice low and threatening. “Today’s fight had better be a win.” There was the sound of his footsteps and then a thunk. A crate slid into Lance’s field of vision and he looked up to Avilus for a split second before looking to the crate again. Keith was already bending down to unlock it. “Your weapons.” 

Lance leaned over to get his own, grasping the sniper with one hand. As he slung it over his shoulder, he peered into the box with a frown. Keith was busy strapping the Mamora blade onto his lower back and the sword and pistol waited for him, but that was it. Lance’s blood ran cold and he let out a sigh that was basically a whine. “Uh, Avilus?” he asked quietly. “Where’s… where’s the rifle?” 

Avilus was quiet for so long that Lance raised his head to look. The alien was staring at him, eyes full of distaste. “I don’t know,” he said. “Where is it, Lance?” 

Lance didn’t answer. He swallowed past the lump of shame in his throat and once again stared at the floor. Right. Okay. So the rifle was gone, probably lost somewhere in the arena or it really had fallen off the edge and was gone forever. That was fine. He could survive with the sniper and he knew he could, but still - 

He had fucked up. He had lost an expensive, custom made weapon and Avilus was never going to let him forget it. Just like Avilus wouldn’t let him forget any other time he messed up, any mistakes he made, or the fact that he could easily be returned to the slavers if he kept fucking up. 

Avilus led them to the arena doors and left them there. Keith stood beside him, silent and stony and not even once looking over at him. Lance just repeated the same thing to himself until the doors were opened. 

_ Don’t fuck this up. For once, don’t fuck up. _

✦✦✦✦✦

They won, but Lance wasn’t sure if he messed up or not. He was on edge through Avilus’s post-fight talk, and even the fact that Avilus didn’t point out anything too bad didn’t help. At least the twins were around for the rest of the day, engaging both Lance and Keith in ridiculous conversations and card games. The time passed quickly and then Lance was sitting on Keith’s bunk and tugging his boots off. Keith was already under the blankets behind him, probably falling asleep. 

Because unlike Lance, Keith wasn’t letting something an alien said get to him. Keith didn’t give a damn about anything Avilus said about him, but Lance had been criticized so much he felt like he was being crushed. Hell, it’d been a day and he still felt like shit.  He’d managed to stop worrying about his friendship with Keith only to worry instead about Avilus and his performance in the arena. The idea that Avilus could just give him back, that he could be sold to someone else kept coming back to him. He let one boot fall to the floor and sighed, leaning back on his hands. 

If he was sold to another alien, he’d never see Keith again. Or the Castle, or any of his friends, or Earth… 

_ At least Keith would enjoy that _ , he thought sullenly. He toed his other boot off and just sat there, staring at the wall by their bunk. Alien chatter filtered through the room, a background noise to his awful thoughts. 

This mess with the gun might be the worst thing he’d done yet. Maybe Avilus was already planning to get rid of him and just hadn’t bothered to break the news yet. 

The lights turned off. Lance didn’t move. Behind him, Keith said his name quietly. He turned his head even though he couldn’t see the other boy. 

“Are you going to sleep or what?” Keith asked. 

Lance nodded. “Yeah. Just… just thinking.” 

“Okay…” Keith said. “Sleep soon. You could use the rest.” 

In the dark, it was hard to make out Keith. “Uh, what?”

“You’ve been weird today,” Keith continued. “Like you’re sad or angry. I dunno, something. So, yeah. Sleep helps.” 

If sleep helped, he would have felt better today. “I’m fine,” he said. 

“Mhmm. Course you are.” 

Lance shot the lump of darkness that was Keith a dirty look. “I am.” 

Keith was silent for a few seconds, but then the mattress was creaking and a hand landed on Lance’s arm. “I’m the only person here with you,” Keith said, just over a whisper. “I can tell when you’re unhappy. I’m not gonna make you tell me what’s up, but you don’t have to lie about it.” 

It was probably that that had Lance lying down next to Keith again. Even if Keith did hate him, Lance felt bad enough that he wanted the comfort of being close to someone. He didn’t latch onto Keith’s arm like he had the previous night and didn’t go to hold his hand either. Lying there, knowing someone who could tell he was a mess lay beside him, was good enough. 

And, naturally, he woke up the next morning with an arm wrapped around Keith. Practically had his nose buried in that stupid mess of hair, too. At least it was comfortable - and Keith didn’t smell that bad - and his hair was soft. 

Whatever. 

It didn’t take that long for Lance to realize that today was definitely going to better. Breakfast was enjoyable enough. He made fun of Keith, Keith dished back… Like everything was normal. Like it was fine and Keith didn’t hate him. Like it should be.  

At the tail end of breakfast, while he was waiting for Keith to finish his food, Lance said, “Hey, we don’t have a fight today, do we?”

Keith shrugged. “Not that I know of. Unless Avilus is scheduling surprise fights.” 

“Ugh. Don’t give him the idea.” He made a face at Keith that only made the other boy chuckle quietly. Listening to that hit Lance in the chest like a stroke of flame. Weird. “Hey, Keith?”

Keith didn’t look up, too busy prodding his mystery meat with the spork. “Hm?”

“We’re cool, right? Like, y’know, you don’t hate me or anything. Right?” 

That got Keith’s attention. He leveled Lance with a confused stare, brow furrowed and head tilted. “Huh? Why would you think that?” 

Lance merely shrugged, not wanting to explain. Not knowing if he even could. 

Keith’s face smoothed out as he sighed. He looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but all he said was, “If I hated you, you’d know.” Then he gripped his tray and stood. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Lance asked to his retreating back. “Hey! Keith! Give me a real answer!” He shot to his feet, nearly forgetting his own tray, to follow Keith and demand an actual answer. One that would quell the stupid worries flitting through his head. When he reached his partner, Keith was smirking at him. Lance took one look at him - at those goddamn stupid eyes - and scoffed. “You’re the worst,” he said. 

He couldn’t get a straight answer out of Keith after that. He demanded one in the hall and only got a low hum. Again in the stairwell, and Keith just smiled at him. It was annoying. Upstairs, Lance said, “Alright, y’know what. Let’s go play one of those games with the twins. In teams. I’m with Y’skai.” 

That smile hadn’t really left Keith’s face. It was light, barely there, and brought light to his eyes. “Alright,” he said. 

“If I win, you’re answering me for real.” 

Keith nodded. “Sure. What do I get?” 

While Lance was trying to come up with a good answer, a voice got their attention. Just one single, loud, “Hey!” 

He turned and locked eyes with Khattala. She was holding Keith’s pistol in one hand, the other on her hip. “Oh, hey there,” Lance said, an easy smile drifting over his face. “What’s up?” 

She fixed with a mildly confused stare, but didn’t answer. Her eyes went to Keith instead, and she held up the pistol. “Avilus wants you to actually learn how to shoot this,” she said. “Something about you missing too many shots, I don’t know. I stopped listening when he started ranting. Let’s go.” She jerked her head toward the hall, a clear gesture to follow her. 

Keith’s smile had faded. He looked resigned now. He paused to pat Lance on the shoulder, smirking. “Guess that card game’ll have to wait,” he said. 

Lance looked from him to Khattala and back again. Keith’s hand was still on his shoulder, light but still there. “I’ll come too,” he said. 

Khattala’s ears twitched, dipping lower on her head. “No, you aren’t. You were enough of a bother yesterday.” 

Lance was going to ignore how that stung. Guess ‘better’ didn’t mean his self-confidence was all that great. He pouted at her but she just stared back at him. “Aw, c’mon, ‘Tala! I can help!”

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking between him and Keith. “If this is just you wanting to be near him,” she started, “I swear - “

Heat was already rising in Lance’s cheeks. Keith’s hand finally slipped from his shoulder. 

“ - I will throw you out.” 

“It’s not like that,” Lance said. He glanced at Keith and then away again. “I just - I can totally show Keith how to shoot, y’know?” 

“Are you saying I can’t?” 

He groaned, rubbing his face with one hand. 

Why did he want to go with them? He could just as easily leave Keith to train and hang out with the twins. He had done it before and had no issues. But it felt like something was going to writhe out of his skin, a persistent and annoying need to prove that he wasn’t useless, to show Keith that he was still good at this and worth keeping around. 

Shit. He thought he was doing better but it was threatening to collapse around him again. 

“I don’t mind,” Keith said. He was looking at Khattala when Lance glanced his way. “Lance knows me. He can help me if you can’t.” He paused to look over, caught Lance’s eye, and smiled. “I could use the help of a sharpshooter.” 

Lance returned the smile, grateful. 

Khattala muttered something so fast the translator could only catch half of it, and that half was an insult. “Fine,” she said. “I don’t care. Just hurry up and don’t fool around in there.” 

Whatever that meant. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The training turned out to be pretty entertaining. Keith was bad at aiming and Lance suspected it was in part due to his impatience. The guy had a sword, he was used to getting in close and slashing at things not lining up perfect shots. It was kinda funny and it provided Lance a way to show off. He’d let Khattala show him how to stand, how to hold the gun, and then go right behind her and fix the little mistakes Keith was making. 

Keith couldn’t meet his eyes for longer than a second, fidgeting whenever Lance moved his hands or nudged his feet apart. Like he was embarrassed at having to be taught something. 

“Run the drill,” Khattala said. 

The targets were moving in front of Keith, had been for a few seconds. He brought the gun up to fire and Lance stopped him at the last second. “Not so fast, hotshot,” he said. “Try not to strangle the gun.” 

Keith’s frown was intense but he stood still and let Lance take his hands and loosen his grip. “I don’t see why that’s a problem,” he said. “I can shoot fine like this.” 

“It’s a gun, dude,” Lance said. “I don’t care if  your tiny pistol has no kickback and fires like a dream” -which it did- “you don’t hold a gun like you would a club.” 

Keith shot him a brief, annoyed stare.

Lance couldn’t help himself. He winked, grinning at Keith’s immediate flush. “Ha! What’s with you?”

“Nothing. Go away.” 

His hands were still on Keith’s, over the gun, and he squeezed when Keith tried to pull away. 

“Lance! Let go.” 

Lance leaned over to get a better look - and, yep. Keith was pretty red under his bangs. “I can’t believe how easily you blush,” he said quietly. “That’s adorable.” 

Why the hell did he just say that. 

Keith fixed him with a glare that was definitely ruined by the flush high on his cheeks. “Let me shoot,” he growled. 

From the back of the room, Khattala’s sigh was loud. “Lance.” 

He looked up from Keith, still grinning. “Yes, pretty lady?” 

She shook her head at him. “Leave him alone. He’s here to train and you’re distracting him.” 

Lance sighed, raising his hands and stepping away. “I’m just trying to help,” he said. 

“Go help over there,” Keith said. “Away from me.”

“Relax, man,” he said. “Shooting’s easy. You got this. And if you don’t, I’m always here to help.” He joined Khattala by the door then, leaning against the wall beside her. 

Hadn’t even said a word before she was staring him down. “If I had known you were just going to distract him,” she said, “I wouldn’t have let you come.” 

“I’m totally helping,” he said. “Look, he’s already doing better!” He gestured at the range where Keith had shot down five of the moving targets. Then he raised his voice, calling out to Keith: “You’re doin’ great! Knock ‘em dead!”

He couldn’t make out Keith’s answer, but Khattala said, “They’re just targets, Lance.” 

“That’s he’s going to kill.”

Khattala just rolled her eyes, her attention on Keith. 

Lance looked his way too, but it was boring after a short while. He could only watch someone shoot for so long; it was much more interesting when he was the one doing the shooting, when the targets were moving faster than these were. So he stood there and he stared at Keith’s back and tried to think of something else to talk about. He thought about the arena, about their fights, about Avilus - and then forced himself away from it. Pestering Keith had put him in a fairly good mood, but it’d be so easy to let everything overpower him again. If he let those thoughts start creeping in, it wouldn’t be too long before they flooded him. 

Instead, he racked his mind for anything else. Maybe something had happened in Khattala’s show recently? Or he could keep teaching her human slang. He was wondering where to start with the slang when he remembered something. Specifically, Keith telling him to flirt with her. 

Yesterday, it had been just another thing to get him down. Today, it was appealing simply because it would give him something to do. 

Plus, Khattala was pretty in that alien sort of way. Good features, really nice eyes. Her dark hair was nice too, blue and grey all at once. He’d be surprised if she knew what he was saying, but hey, he needed to practice his lines on someone. 

(She definitely wouldn’t flirt back. He was just not going to think about that.)

“So. Khattala.” 

Her eyes flicked back to him, one ear perking up in response. 

“I was just wondering…” He lowered his voice to the exact right tone, giving her his best flirtatious smirk. “Who took the stars and put them in your eyes?”

Slowly, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry. What?” 

Hm. That one wasn’t good enough. “Sorry, sorry. What I meant to say was what’s a nice girl like you doing in a galaxy like this?”

She stared at him and then deadpanned, “Working.” 

Lance leaned back with a sigh. “No, ‘Tala,” he said. “I didn’t mean literally.” 

“Then why did you say it?” 

“Just trying to get your attention, babe.”

Her ears twitched, then flattened against her skull. Her face screwed up and she said, “Did you call me an infant?”

Lance blinked. He let go of the flitarious air because what? “Uh, no. What?”

“You did,” she said. 

From somewhere in front of them, Keith called their attention. “Hey. I’m done with the drill.” He was holding the pistol at his side when Lance looked at him. The range behind him was empty of the targets. “What are you two doing?”

“Lance called me an infant,” Khattala said.

Keith looked at him, brows raised. 

“I didn’t say that,” Lance said. “I said ‘babe’. Which is definitely not an infant.” These translators were killing him. 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ. Seriously, Lance?” 

“What?”

“Why are you flirting with her?”

He frowned. “Dude. You told me to yesterday.” 

“I wasn’t serious!” Keith looked at Lance like he was an idiot. “I was annoyed. I didn’t mean to actually walk up to a guard and hit on her.” He turned his gaze to Khattala. “Did he use his stupid pickup lines?” 

Khattala’s ears had lifted up. “Is that what he was doing?” she asked. “That’s… sad.” 

“Hey! I work hard on those lines.” 

Khattala looked unamused.

Keith snorted. “Your lines are terrible, Lance.” 

“Oh, like you’d know,” Lance shot back. “You wouldn’t know romance if it hit you in the face.” 

Khattala spoke before Keith could. She was still staring at Lance, but she gestured with one hand at Keith. “Why aren’t you flirting with him?” she asked. 

Lance blinked, surprised. “What? With Keith?” He glanced back to Keith to see some kind of weird, strained expression on the other boy’s face. 

Keith caught him looking, his eyes widened, and then he looked away again. 

Lance may have made an impulsive decision then. He leveled Khattala with a flat stare, then spun on his heels to face Keith. It was way too easy to push that charming smile to his face, to address Keith with the low tone he’d use on pretty girls. “Hey, Keith,” he said. 

Immediately, Keith tensed. 

“Are you an alien? ‘Cause you’ve abducted my heart.” 

Seconds passed. Keith hadn’t moved and was staring at him with a painfully exasperated look on his face. Lance let the smile fall, turning back to Khattala. He raised one hand to wave at Keith, saying, “That’s why you can’t flirt with Keith. You get nothing from him.” 

Khattala was glancing between them, looking utterly confused. “What is wrong with humans?” she said quietly. 

For some reason, she ended the training quickly after that. Lance made his way to the lounge, Keith beside him. “Can’t help but notice,” Lance said, “that you didn’t seem to appreciate my line.”

“It was terrible,” Keith said. “I thought you were supposed to be good at flirting.” 

Lance gasped, a purposefully dramatic reaction. “Keith! I am scandalized. I’m excellent at flirting. Girls would love to be with me.” 

Keith smirked at him. “Uh huh. I don’t see any girls here falling over themselves for a chance with you.” 

It was a joke and Lance knew it. Since it was just that, just some stupid joke, he probably shouldn’t have taken it for a challenge. But he couldn’t help himself. It’d been weeks since they got here and he had spent much of that time worrying about something and then hiding it. It was getting more and more difficult to keep everything inside - to stop Keith from reacting to Lance’s pent up frustrations - because that would be bad, that’d be a disaster. Keith would take one look at how anxious and worried Lance really was and he’d explode somehow. Anger, probably. Somehow. 

If Keith was angry, then Lance would lose the goal he’d set himself - to keep things as light as he could. To make sure the only friend he had here wasn’t left to stumble over how bad things really were. 

Taking Keith’s dumb joke and making it a challenge actually kind of relaxed him. Flirting with aliens felt almost normal at this point - probably because he did tend to flirt whenever Voltron stopped somewhere. He spent the next couple days purposefully hitting on girls and one guy (on accident, he swore) and then relayed the more amusing reactions back to Keith. 

For the most part, Keith seemed to take his behavior just as he always had. Lots of eye rolls and tired looks, exasperated sighs if Lance got too flirtatious near him. The really bad lines - the ones even Lance knew were terrible - got him to laugh though. 

Lance may have started using those on purpose, just to grin when Keith failed to stifle his laughter. 

Then, one day, Lance found U’ilani in the gun range. He and Keith had gotten out of an annoying fight about an hour earlier. After bemoaning the fight to one another, Keith had been pulled into a card game by a few aliens. Lance had debated joining but in the end, he’d wandered off. He figured he could find his own way to cool down, and now there was this. 

“Hello, Lance,” U’ilani said, glancing his way. She had the gun placed level on a steel table. “How are you doing today?”

“Better now that you’re here.” He said it without thinking. Damn, he had to stop flirting unintentionally. 

U’ilani straightened up, looking at him. She held her gun in her upper arms, the lower hands on her hips. “Lance. I don’t think you should be doing that.” 

He sighed, waving one hand to ward her off. “Yeah, sorry. Kind of a habit now.” A bad one. He was gonna hit on the wrong person one day. “I didn’t mean anything by it, promise.” 

“I should hope not,” she said. She cast a look behind her. A guard was lingering in the corner of the room, but they weren’t paying any attention. “I’ve seen you lately,” U’ilani continued, facing him again. “And I’ve heard the things you’ve been saying to people.” 

Lance raised his brows. “Uhh… yeah?” 

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said.

“Woah. That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” 

“I don’t know how things are handled on Earth,” she said, ignoring him completely, “but in my culture, this sort of behavior is not tolerated.” 

“Well. I’m sorry?” He’d just wanted to talk. What the hell was this? “I mean, it’s just flirting. Nothing serious.” 

Did the twins’ culture outlaw flirting or something? 

U’ilani stared at him fiercely, all four eyes trained on his face. “What about Keith?” she asked. 

That threw him off completely. “Huh?”

“Keith,” she repeated. All four of her hands were now on the gun, gripping it tight. She took a step toward him, peering down at him. “Your partner, your bonded.” 

“What does Keith have to do this? What is this, anyway?” He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of weird interrogation?” 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” U’ilani said. “Are you ...flirting… with others as a cruel joke? Or has he angered you again?” 

Lance was so confused he couldn’t even think of what to say. He opened and shut his mouth several times but couldn’t get past a stuttered word or two. 

“It’s cruel,” she said, “and hurtful of you to behave this way. No matter what he’s done, you two are bonded and you shouldn’t do this.” 

Lance stared at her. 

“Others have noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“Your behavior,” she snapped. She released the gun with one hand to prod his chest. “You are acting like a child, and I am not going to let it hurt your bond.“

“What bond?” 

If anything, she looked more disappointed in him than ever. “Your bond with Keith,” she said. 

Lance floundered for a response again and in that time, U’ilani continued along in that vein. She told him several more times that he was behaving crudely, that Keith didn’t deserve this, that the two of them needed to settle their differences without hurting one another. After nearly two minutes of being berated, Lance pulled himself together to say, “What the hell are you talking about? What is this bond mess?”

U’ilani cut herself off with a low noise. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t. Really.” 

She fell quiet, staring at him, eyes narrowing. 

“If I’m gonna be lectured, I think I should at least know why,” Lance said. 

After a few silent heartbeats, U’ilani spoke again. She sounded much less harsh than before. “Lance,” she said. “Do you… understand what it means when Y’skai and I say you have a bond with Keith?” 

He made a face, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t know. We’re friends or something.” 

U’ilani leaned back. “Oh. I see.” She turned to place the gun down, leaning it against the table. When she turned back to Lance, even her stance was more relaxed. “I feel like I should explain this to you. So long as you don’t overreact.” 

Lance paused, looking her up and down for any hints of remaining anger. “Wait. You’re not angry anymore?”

She shook her head.

“And you aren’t going to jump down my throat?”

A pause, then she said, “If I am understand that correctly… I will not.” 

He hesitated again, then sighed. “Okay. Please. Explain this to me.” 

He was pretty curious. He’d never found the chance to ask Y’skai about the bonded thing and if it didn’t mean that he and Keith were friends, he really wanted to know. 

U’ilani spared another look at the guard then took a few more steps away from him, gesturing for Lance to follow. “This may shock you,” she said once they were much closer to the wall opposite the guard. “I must ask you to stay calm.” 

He was starting to regret this already, but he nodded. 

“Very well. Let me think for  just a moment. I need to find the easiest way to put it.” Her eyes turned to the ceiling and Lance was left to squirm, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Shortly, U’ilani cleared her throat and leaned closer to him. “A bond is a powerful thing,” she said. “Ralthurians spend years upon years choosing someone and creating a bond with them. It is, without a doubt, the most meaningful experience two can have.” 

Lance’s heartbeat quickened. This was not going to end well. 

“To create a bond,” U’ilani continued, “is ...well, essentially, you are giving a part of yourself to the other.” 

Yeah, definitely not going well. Heat was growing in his face and he was definitely starting to pull a pained face.

“Bonded Ralthurians share everything,” she said. “Their lives. Their belongings. Even their minds, in a sense. They can feel what the other feels. It is intimate beyond belief.” 

Lance let out a low whine, bringing a hand to his face. He averted his gaze to the floor, feeling the heat of his skin under his palm. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.” 

“Y’skai believed you and Keith were bonded,” she said. “Mistakenly, it appears.” 

Lance whined again. 

“I don’t even know if humans can have the type of bond we can.”

“We can’t,” he said. It was muffled due to both his hands now covering his face. “Definitely not. No mind reading here.” 

“I apologize,” she said, “for any inconvenience we have caused. I will set my brother straight on this matter as soon as I can.” One of her hands landed on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “If it is any consolation, this isn’t the first time he’s made this mistake.”

Lance lowered his hands to look at her. He couldn’t hide the blush even if he wanted to now. “It’s not,” he said. “You guys think me and Keith were together. Like, dating? Holy crap. He’s gonna be so pissed.”

U’ilani tilted her head, a quiet noise escaping her. “Not quite that,” she said. “A bond is not casual.”

“...What?” 

“A bond lasts a lifetime,” she said. “To bond with someone is to intertwine your lives together.”

Lance’s eyes widened. If possible, the color in his face deepened to the point that he felt like he was on fire. “Ohh no,” he whispered. “Oh, God, no. You - Y’skai - oh my God.” 

U’ilani released a trill of laughter, quiet but there, and he shot her a weak glare. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t see why you’re reacting so strongly.” 

“Keith barely tolerates me!” he said. “And now you’re telling me that you guys - that people - you thought we were married!?’

U’ilani considered this, then said, “What is ‘married’?”

“A lifelong bond!” His voice had shot up in volume but he couldn’t help it. He was panicking now - embarrassed and ashamed and thinking about how badly this news was going to go over with Keith.

Quietly, U’ilani said, “Oh.” It was one word but her tone of voice made it clear: a bond was alien marriage.

The twins thought he and Keith were alien married. 

“This would be a bad time to mention,” U’ilani said, “that Y’skai told several others you were bonded. And that it has spread through the arena.” 

Lance was going to cry. He settled for a wounded groan, dragging his hands through his head. “I’m so dead,” he said. “Keith is gonna kill me. He’s gonna be so mad about this. Oh, man.” 

U’ilani reached for him, but because the universe’s timing was spectacular, Keith’s voice shot through the room. 

_ “Lance!” _

And he sounded pissed. 

Lance whimpered.

At that moment, Keith tore into the room, settling a seething glare on Lance. Instantly, Lance covered his face again, eyes screwed shut. He heard Keith approach, heard him stop, and heard the deep anger in his voice when he spoke. “Lance. Do you know what I just learned?”

Lance’s answer was a quiet noise. 

“I learned about our bond.” 

Lance said, “The universe hates me,” into his hands.

Before him, U’ilani was laughing again. “At least you don’t have to tell him now,” she said. 

“I’m a cosmic joke,” Lance whispered.

“What the hell, Lance?” Keith snapped. “Look at me!”

Slowly, Lance lowered his hands enough to peek over his fingers at Keith. The glare sent his way was unlike any he’d gotten from Keith recently, fierce and deadly and scorching. His cheeks were flushed, probably due to how angry he was. Those stupid eyes were dark and dangerous and Lance felt his heart sinking. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what it meant, man.”

“You let them think we were together,” Keith said, his voice a growl. “Never occured to you to tell them otherwise?”

“I didn’t know what it meant,” Lance repeated. 

“Never thought to ask?”

He shook his head.

U’ilani was still laughing. It was quiet, but it was there and it felt like she was mocking him. 

“Glad they bothered to tell me, then,” Keith said. “Since you just let it go on.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“They thought it was true, Lance.” 

He winced. Great. She wasn’t lying about it spreading then.

“They were laughing at me,” Keith said. 

“Hey, ‘Lani’s laughing at me!” Lance said, waving at the alien.

She immediately tried and failed to stop the trilling noise. 

Keith ignored him. A smile sparked to life on his face but it was mocking and hit Lance like a truck. “You know what they were laughing at, Lance?”

He shook his head.

“The bed sharing.” 

It was hissed through gritted teeth and Lance dropped his eyes from Keith with a sigh. 

U’ilani was laughing again. 

“Said we were such good partners,” Keith said. “Such a good _ bond. _ Seeing as how I let you sleep next to me.” 

Lance muttered a prayer in Spanish because maybe God would take pity on him. “Look, Keith,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what it meant and I never got the chance to ask.” 

Keith scoffed. “Save it,” he said. “I don’t even want to look at you anymore.” He started to leave, then paused. “And you sleep in your own goddamn bed.” Then he was gone, storming out the room. 

Without him there to yell, Lance was all too aware of U’ilani trills. He sent her a dirty look.

All she could say was, “You shared a bed.” 

Lance wished he could melt through the floor. Maybe cease to exist for a while. He rubbed a hand over his face again, cursing himself for never asking about it and for needing the physical comfort and for finding that comfort in Keith. If he’d been stronger - if he could get through his rough nights without another person there, at least Keith’s card playing buddies wouldn’t have laughed at him. Maybe then, Keith wouldn’t be so angry.

Right.

Like that’d happen.

If Keith didn’t hate him before, he certainly did now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so feel like i should say that due to some of the ways Lance acted in canon he does have some form of depression in this. not bad enough or massive enough to warrant a tag but yeah yknow its there. and i've based his thought process off of my own anxiety-riddled shitstorm when i get bad. if something in the way he's thinking isn't making sense, ask me and i guarantee i can explain it 
> 
> next chapter!  
> \- boys have a big important fight in the arena  
> \- lance is still sad  
> \- keith is still a hopeless gay in space


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> press pause on the steadily increasing gay, there's a dude to fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what a long fight scene.

Arena Zeta had proven to be a horrible place. The constant fights came with constant injuries, an abusive and sadistic alien ‘owner’, and the presence of armored guards. There was no privacy, no freedom, and very little to occupy free time with. Not to mention only having two levels of the arena open to them, so there wasn’t many places they could go to be alone - many meaning ‘none’. It had already been roughly six weeks, and every second spent here was slowly draining Keith’s patience to deal with other people’s bullshit. 

He didn’t have a lot of patience to begin with.

Out of all that, the worst thing he’d had to put up with since being taken here was this. 

Learning that most - if not all - the aliens within Zeta’s walls believed he and Lance were together. And he had heard it from the aliens he played cards with, aliens he didn’t know past a name and a table of cards. One of them, a big thing with an indiscernible gender and lots of teeth, asked him bluntly where his boyfriend was at. 

Keith, assuming it was a tactic to distract him, replied, “Probably off not existing.” His focus was still on the cards in his hands as the aliens at the table fell silent.

That was all it took for things to get worse. One of the aliens clarified that this ‘boyfriend’ was Lance, Keith said that was ridiculous. He asked, “Where’d you get that idea?” And then, to his growing embarrassment and horror, the aliens - five of them in all - started to explain everything. About Y’skai and these bonds, the rumors that had spread over the arena. 

The one who had started it all said, “I heard from Tellrynn that you two share a bed. If you’re not together, why would you do that?” 

Keith faltered. The response on his lips had been ‘for comfort’ but in this context, it’d only make things worse. His hand of cards lay abandoned on the table by now, palms flat to either side of it. Slowly, his fingers twitched and curled into fists as he absorbed all this new information. He thought about all the teasing he and Lance would give one another and how that could have been misinterpreted; he tried to remember if he’d heard anyone say something about bonds and couldn’t be sure because his mind was already whirring to the next problem. 

Ever since he’d reluctantly admitted to himself that he liked Lance, he’d snuck glances at the other boy whenever possible. Always careful not to let Lance catch him looking (not that Lance would notice anything), but the fact remained that Keith had been letting his gaze wander a lot. He’d thought no one had picked up on it but they probably had. He’d probably dug the hole deeper without meaning to because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check. 

All of it was building a knot of discomfort in his gut and Keith reacted the only way he knew. 

With anger. 

He left the table in a rush, with a growl that he’d be back, and stomped off to find Lance. At the time, it’d made sense. The arena thought Keith was dating Lance and that was clearly Lance’s fault. Then they’d suffered through a fight, and although the adrenaline of battle pushed awkwardness to the background, there was clear tension between them after. Lance wouldn’t even look at him, his gaze downcast as they shed the armor. By nighttime, Keith’s anger had abated entirely. He sat on the lower bunk and watched as Lance climbed up into his own with a small frown. 

He should be glad, seeing as he had basically ordered Lance to sleep alone. But something was gnawing at him, right behind his ribs, and he drifted off thinking about that one early morning where he’d awoken in Lance’s arms. 

The following day was much the same. Lance barely made eye contact before his brow furrowed and pained expression shadowed his eyes. He wandered off to look for Khattala or the twins, leaving Keith to occupy himself in the lounge. He played card games but his mind was drifting, his focus lax, and he lost every game played. It was difficult to care when he kept glancing at the doorway to the lounge, waiting for Lance to appear and for things to be normal between them. 

As it was now, everything felt strained and lingering awkwardness emanated from Lance. 

Keith excused himself from the table, handing his cards over to be shuffled back into the deck. One of the aliens asked where he was going and he ignored them, weaving between the tables and through the door. He cast a look down the hall to the stairwell and then to the opposite end, where the long curved hall began. 

The good thing about only have two levels available to them was that it’d make it really easy to find someone. 

As much as Keith valued his time alone and room to breathe - neither of which he really had here - he had grown far too used to Lance. For weeks now, Lance was either beside him or not too far away. It had gotten comfortable to be near Lance, whether they were preparing to fight or sitting in silence or trading playful insults. Even when they would argue, when Keith would say hurtful things, Lance would still be close. But now he was avoiding Keith and it was bothering him immensely. Far more than he liked. 

He headed toward the long hall first. It would take longer to search for Khattala than the twins, but it’d be easier to get this entire floor out of the way. He walked past closed doors, some of which slid open as he came close to their sensors. Not an inch of pink stood out. Most the aliens were in black and gold, Zeta’s colors, slaves training under the watchful eye of a guard. He rubbed at his chest absently as he walked; the gnawing feeling in his chest from the night before hadn’t really left yet. Just another distracting thing about today, another reason to find Lance. 

About a third down the hall, a door opened and out she stepped. Her attention was on a device in her hand, small and so much like a phone that Keith faltered midstep. Then her gaze flicked up. Khattala caught his gaze, gave a nod, and said, “Where’s your shadow?” 

Keith blinked. “Uh, what?”

“Lance.” 

He sighed, shoulders slumping immediately. “Don’t know. Kind of hoped you did.” 

She tilted her head. “Oh. Well, then, no. I don’t.”

“I got that.” 

Both of them fell silent, Khattala checking the device again. One of her ears lowered a bit. “I have work to do,” she said. “Good luck finding him, I guess.” 

He gave a small noncommittal noise in response and turned from her.

“One more thing,” she said, stopping him. He turned back to see her pocketing the device by sliding it beneath the armor over her thigh. “I heard the news, about you two not actually being together.” 

He grimaced. 

“Tell Lance I apologize if anything I’ve said to him about you made him uncomfortable,” she continued. “And I guess that extends to you as well. Though we haven’t talked as much, I did believe what everyone said.” 

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll let him know.” He left her there and headed back the way he’d come. 

Next up was to find the twins. They weren’t fighting today - no one was; it was one of the arena’s off days - and since they hadn’t been in the lounge, they were downstairs. Either in their room or in the cafeteria, where Y’skai could eat all the disgusting meat stuff he wanted. Keith took the stairs down at a brisk pace, almost a jog. The uncomfortable gnaw in his chest was growing the more he thought about finding Lance and actually talking to him. 

He wasn’t good at talking, especially not with apologizing. He knew that, Lance knew that. 

He had messed up, though, and he knew it. Being angry at the situation was no reason to take it out on Lance, especially when Lance had been having a hard time lately. 

On the heels of that last thought, Keith’s stomach churned and he skipped the last three steps, stumbling in his haste to get out of the stairwell. In the hall, he bypassed their barracks and peered into the cafeteria. A few groups of aliens were milling about but it easy to see that none of them were tall, four-armed aliens. Not to mention, he’d probably hear Y’skai before he saw him. 

Private rooms it was then. He couldn’t remember exactly which one was the twins, since he’d been more than a little out of it when he was there, but he could guess. It was farther from the cafeteria, he was sure, so he skipped several doors to get to the end of the hall. There, he stood awkwardly, glancing from door to door and trying to figure out what to do next. Knock on one? Ask an alien which room belonged to the twins? 

Thankfully, he heard a loud booming voice through the door to his right and let out a relieved breath.  _ That was definitely Y’skai _ , he thought, leaning over to wave his hand before the door. The sensor noticed him instantly and the door slid open, letting the alien’s voice flow into the hall. It cut off quick, however, Y’skai’s words dying as soon as he noticed the door opening. 

Keith leaned into the doorway, scanning the room. There was Y’skai, lying with two arms hanging off the massive hammock in the center of the room. U’ilani sat on the couch, back to the door, twisted around to look. 

And there, on the bottom bunk of the bed crammed in the corner, was Lance. He was staring back at Keith with wide eyes. 

It took one look and Keith’s chest exploded with nerves that crawled up his throat. The gnawing sensation was worse, crawling through his skin. He sighed. “Lance,” he said. “Can we talk?” 

For a beat, Lance didn’t move. Then he nodded, moving to get off the bed. 

From the hammock, Y’skai said, “If this is about what I think it is, please make it quick. I am trying to explain something to Lance.”

“And I told you,” Lance shot back, “that I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He gave the alien a brief, dirty look as he passed. A look that Y’skai completely ignored. 

“I think it’s important,” Y’skai said. “And also that, as your friend, I need to make amends for my mistakes.” 

At that, Lance made a face. He caught Keith’s eyes again for a brief moment and then averted his gaze. He neared the door and Keith took a step back, letting the other boy through. The door shut behind him. Standing before him, Lance still refused to meet Keith’s gaze. He kept his eyes locked on the floor, face drawn. 

Keith’s heart was already pounding and he hadn’t even said anything. 

The silence was tense and unbearable. 

Lance broke it. “So…” he said slowly. “What’d you wanna talk about?” 

Another silent second passed, Keith crossing his arms over his chest. It was just two words. He could do that. He licked his lips and said, “I… I’m sorry.” There. Totally easy. “For what happened yesterday.” 

That got Lance to look up. He looked confused, though. “What? You don’t need to apologize, man. I’m the one that messed up.” 

Keith shook his head. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he said. 

“I don’t blame you,” Lance said. “I would have yelled at me too.” He gestured vaguely at the twin’s door, giving the door a frown when it slid open again. He fell silent until it shut again, then sighed. When he spoke again, he was quieter. “I messed up and I let everyone hear think that we were… y’know.” The tips of his ears were turning red. “Anyone would be mad about that, the rumors and all that.” He muttered something in Spanish and his face fell even more. “I should be apologizing. I should have asked sooner and then you wouldn’t have to deal with people thinking you’d be with me.” 

Something about the way he said that sent the gnawing sensation into overdrive, to the point that it became something akin to a fiery itch. Something that pulled at Keith’s chest, wanting to pull itself out of him. He frowned. “Lance. What the hell are you saying?” 

Lance shrugged one shoulder, dragging his eyes over Keith and then immediately to the right of him. “Nothing,” he said. “Just… Why would you be so mad unless it was because of me? Because of people thinking you were dating me.” 

Keith gripped his own arms tighter, frown deepening. “That’s not what I’m mad about,” he said. It sounded like it should be a lie but it wasn’t. 

Lance didn’t say anything. 

There was one time, pretty recently, that Keith had considered hugging Lance. He had looked just as worn down as he did now, just as sad and listless. Last time, Keith hadn’t done a damn thing and though he still couldn’t bring himself to do that much - to initiate so much contact - he moved, at least. All he could bring himself to do was reach for Lance, squeeze the other boy’s hand in his own. “I was mad,” he said, “because those aliens I play games with were laughing at me. They were making fun of me and I didn’t like it.” He had Lance’s attention at least, blue eyes focused on him. “And, yeah, okay. Maybe I was a little mad that everyone thought this and it wasn’t true, but - but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” 

“It kind of is, though,” Lance said. 

“I know you would have corrected them if you knew what they were saying,” Keith said. 

“But I could have asked.” 

Keith’s grip on Lance’s hand tightened. “Will you just let me apologize?” he said. 

Lance made a face, rolling his eyes. He lifted his other hand to motion for Keith to hurry up. 

He licked his lips again, dropping his gaze to their linked hands. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you,” he said. “You weren’t who I was mad at.” 

Lance made a noise of disbelief. 

“Annoyed, maybe,” Keith continued, looking back at his face, “but that’s kind of normal, isn’t it? Me, annoyed at you.” He paused, watched the corners of Lance’s mouth twitch. “I’m sorry I yelled at you when I was mad at someone else. You didn’t deserve it.” He bit down on his own tongue to stop himself from saying more, from confessing that he didn’t want to make Lance feel worse than he already did. 

The seconds dragged on. Keith’s nerves were building back up when Lance finally spoke again. 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I get it. That.. that helps.” He was looking at their hands and, slowly, interlocked their fingers. Then Lance looked at him and the defeat that was heavy before had eased back a bit. “Apology accepted,” he said. He even gave Keith a small smile. 

Keith’s heart tripped over itself. That was more like Lance than this perpetual dark mood.

“Can I apologize now?” Lance continued. At Keith’s hesitant nod, his smile faded. He said, “I, uh.. I’m sorry I never asked. I should have and I should’ve figured out what they meant and I should’ve told them the truth.” He let go of Keith’s hand to rub at the back of his neck, gaze flitting away. A light flush was building over his cheeks. “It just slipped my mind, y’know? With the arena and the fights and - and Avilus, I never remembered to and it just went on and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Keith said, smiling despite himself. The fire in his chest had calmed as his nerves did, sinking into his bones and lighting a warmth in his chest. “I told you, I wasn’t mad at you.” 

Lance was smiling again, more life to it than before. “Still,” he said. Then he caught Keith’s eyes and said, “I’m kind of just glad you don’t hate me for this, honestly.” 

Keith’s smile disappeared. “Hate you?” he repeated. A memory nagged at him: Lance asking him something similar a few days earlier, asking if Keith hated him. Where the hell was he getting that idea? Did this bond fiasco bring it back? Had it even left? He wanted to ask all of it, to get the real details from Lance - and then the door beside them opened again before he’d even formed the words. 

At the door, U’ilani was peering at them, both sets of hands clasped behind her back. “Sorry for interrupting,” she said, “but Y’skai is impatient and whiny - “

“I am not whining!” Y’skai roared behind her. 

“ - and he is annoying me,” U’ilani continued. “I’m glad you two have talked things through, but can you please come inside?” She sighed, raising one hand to tap the skin by one of her eyes. “I am so tired of listening to this. He’s been talking to himself since last night.” 

Y’skai flipped his legs out of the hammock, resting his upper hands on his knees. One of his lower hands pointed at his sister accusingly. “I’ve been talking to  _ you!” _

“And I have been trying to ignore you.” 

Y’skai sputtered an angry response, making a gesture behind her back. Keith raised his brows at it, assuming it to be something rude in their culture. He shared a quick glance with Lance and shrugged, nodding towards the twins. An unspoken question of whether or not to talk with them hung between them. Keith personally didn’t see any reason not to, but judging by what Lance had said when he left the room earlier, he wasn’t keen on the idea. 

Despite his previous objections, though, Lance just rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Whatever. Can’t be any worse than yesterday.” 

U’ilani moved from the doorway, heading back to the couch. That left Lance to go for the bunk bed and Keith followed after him. It was the same type that filled the barracks. Keith climbed on after Lance, leaning against the window set into the wall. Mere inches separated them and it was hard not to think of all the nights he’d fallen asleep next to Lance in a bed just like this. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, anyway. 

The instant they had settled, Y’skai had leaned so far forward he looked as if he’d fall out of the hammock. He bowed his head, raised his lower arms and clasped his hands together at his forehead. “I apologize,” he said, voice low, “for spreading such a misconception.” 

Beside him, Lance let out a low breath. “He’s done this three times,” he whispered to Keith. 

Y’skai straightened up just enough to shoot Lance a sharp-eyed look. “It’s necessary!” he said. “I will do this a hundred more times if I must.” 

Lance twitched so hard one of his elbows slammed into the wall. He groaned, muttering curses, and bent over onto himself. Keith stared back at the alien. “Uh. Apology accepted?” It wasn’t meant to be a question. 

Y’skai nodded once, letting his arms fall into a more relaxed position. “Good! I’ll bypass the hundred more apologies for the sake of time” -here, U’ilani’s trilling laughter punctuated his words- “and instead, I want to explain exactly why this got out of hand.” 

That did not sound like something Keith wanted to talk about. He glanced to the door then back at the massive alien, wondering if it was too late to bail. 

Lance had sat up again. “No, wait!” he said. “Before you start, answer one thing for me.” 

Y’skai looked back at his sister, then at Lance, waving one hand for him to continue. 

“How’d you hear that?” Lance asked. He raised his hand just to poke Keith in the shoulder. “No one should’ve heard me but him! And he’s, like, three inches away from me.” 

Again, Y’skai looked at his sister. She answered: “Ralthurians have exceptionally good hearing. It helps us hunt.” 

Keith released a quiet, “Huh,” without thinking. 

For whatever reason, Lance was gazing at the twins with narrowed eyes. After a second, he nodded, following Keith’s example and leaning against the window. 

“If there are no more interruptions…” Y’skai stared both of them down briefly, the continued. “I thought the two of you should at least know why I thought you were bonded.” 

Personally, Keith would be fine not knowing. He didn’t want the answer to be equated to his feelings being obvious enough to draw such conclusions off of. 

“I’m not sure how much of our first meeting you two remember,” Y’skai was saying, “but I remember watching you both and thinking I was missing part of a conversation.” His four eyes were flicking between the two of them. “Almost as if you were communicating privately somehow.” 

Lance cursed under his breath. A second later, his head hit the window behind them. “Humans are not telepathic,” he said loudly. 

“Well, I know that know,” Y’skai said, sounding annoyed. “I told you, Lance, you’re the first humans I’ve ever met. And we” -here, one of his lower arms gestured back towards his sister- “are not the only species with telepathic abilities! With so little words actually said between the two of you, what was I supposed to think?”

“Not that,” Lance muttered. 

Keith said, “What does telepathy have to do with any of this?” 

Y’skai turned to look at U’ilani, who shrugged. He turned back to Keith, head tilted slightly. “Did Lance not tell you what the bond is?” 

He could feel the heat in his cheeks. A quick glance at Lance showed the other boy blushing much deeper than Keith. He sighed, forcing his eyes back to the alien. “Nope. Lance didn’t really talk at all.” He paused. “I got the gist of it from the guys I play cards with, though. Serious relationship type of thing, right?”

Lance said, “Space marriage,” so quietly Keith almost missed it. It made the heat in his own face triple, that deep fire in his bones perking up again. 

Maybe he should have pretended he understood all of this because now Y’skai had launched into an explanation solely for Keith. It was somehow worse than the day before. Where he’d be angry then, projecting all his twisting emotions around until it made sense to yell at Lance, now he was just uncomfortably warm and anxious. Lance was stiff beside him, staring at the bed above them, the red in his face bright. 

When Y’skai stopped talking, both aliens were looking his way, waiting for a reaction. 

Bizarrely enough, Keith couldn’t stop himself from barking a laugh. He felt Lance’s eyes on him and slapped a hand over his mouth until he could quiet himself. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand back to his lap. “Just… We were kicking each other under the table. That’s a pretty big difference from telepathically linked marriage.” 

Y’skai huffed a breath as his sister laughed, high and shrill. “I didn’t just assume it,” he said. “I asked Lance. He practically told me you two were together!”

“Oh, now that is a lie!” Lance had been sitting in the shadows of the bunk bed since this started but now he jerked forward. His hand gripped the bedsheets tightly. “I would remember saying something like that. Especially since it’s not true.” 

“You did so!” 

U’ilani was still laughing.

The urge to laugh drained from Keith slowly. He sat with his arms crossed, listening to Lance bicker with Y’skai, his eyes locked on his partner, his friend. Any amusement he’d found at the leap of judgement the alien had made weeks prior was being replaced by a dull, painful sort of chill in his gut. It soaked over the flames licking at his bones, froze the blood in his veins. 

Y’skai said, “I can prove it if you’ll just let me talk.” 

And Lance responded, “Sure. Go ahead and tell me why you thought I’d ever be with this guy.” A casual wave of his hand was tossed toward Keith along with the words. 

The chill gripped his heart and Keith frowned, holding himself tighter. That shouldn’t have stung as bad as it did. 

He managed to grumble, “As if you’re such a catch,” despite the growing need to leave. 

Lance shot him a glare that Keith ignored. 

Over on the hammock, Y’skai had already begun talking again. “Once U’ilani and I picked up on the fact that we were missing something - even if that something turned out to be a childish fight - I spoke to Lance. I specifically remember asking him if he’d been caught by Keith, and he said yes.” He raised all four of his hands up as if that settled the matter entirely.

Lance scoffed. “He caught my foot, you big idiot. Like, I was literally caught.” 

For all of two seconds, Y’skai stayed in the same position. Then, with a loud groan, he toppled over onto his back into the pillows. “Unbelievable,” he said.

“What the hell kind of question is that anyway?” Lance asked. “How was that supposed to prove we were together?” The last word was nearly spat out, as if Lance couldn’t even bear the weight of what it meant. 

Which of course he wouldn’t want to, since they weren’t and this whole thing was a big misunderstanding. One that, after time, would probably become a joke and make them laugh - or maybe just Lance, because Keith felt like something was trying to choke him. 

U’ilani had answered Lance’s question. “For Ralthurians, saying they have been caught… Well, in this context, it means they have been pursued romantically. It eludes to a sense of predator chasing prey, only the predator is seeking a bondmate.” 

Another few seconds of silence wherein Keith swallowed roughly.

And then Lance threw him a wary glance, then zeroed in on the aliens again. “Wait, wait wait wait. You mean to tell me that you thought Keith, like, seduced me?” He laughed, short and startled, and said, “Ohh, no. If anyone of us is charming here, it’s me! I could totally charm the pants off Keith.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. 

A part of his mind felt necessary to let him know that Lance could actually very easily do that exact thing. It was followed by a low slung punch to his gut, the knowledge that Lance wouldn’t do that strong and heavy. 

Why was this bothering him so much? 

Y’skai pushed himself up on his elbows. “That is not helping your case,” he said. 

Lance was stuttering a response. “I - I - I said I could! Not that I would, or that I had, or - uh. Look, I don’t like him like that, okay?” 

Oh. That was why. Nothing Keith felt would be returned by someone like Lance, who preferred pretty girls with curves than someone rough like him. He knew that. 

He just wasn’t used to having it thrown in his face. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The next day, they had a fight scheduled for after dinner. From breakfast until lunch, they were pulled into separate training; and after lunch up until they were retrieved to fight, Keith showed Lance how to play one of the card games he’d been taught. It made for a good way to pass the time, even with Lance insisting that Keith was a bad teacher whenever he couldn’t understand something. 

And maybe Keith was bypassing certain things, but it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose. He forgot about a small detail once, tried to correct Lance, and then he was faced with a frustrated weak glare that was ruined by Lance pouting at his own hand of cards. 

It was cute. 

Keith could hardly blame himself for leaving things out on purpose after that. With yesterday’s stark reminder that Lance was not interested in him, Keith was going to enjoy these thoughts when they came - but he was also definitely going to kill his interest in Lance. It wasn’t going anywhere and besides, he had more important things to focus on. 

Like the fight he and Lance were due for. He followed the guard from the lounge to the training room to prepare, listening to Lance grumble behind him. Things like “bad teacher,” and “stupid card games” reached Keith’s ears and he tried not to laugh at his friend’s frustration. It was easy to bite back laughter, but more difficult to rid himself of a smile. Every word Lance spat out was coupled with Keith still seeing the irritated pout on his face - a look that was, to be honest, unfairly adorable. 

Keith pulled his flightsuit on, thinking of Lance doing the same behind him. When he bent down to retrieve pieces of his armor, he snuck a long look at Lance - at the tanned expanse of his back - before Lance pulled the suit over his shoulders. 

He really shouldn’t be looking. 

There was a fight to get ready for, armor in his hands, but Keith let his gaze wander until Lance was turning to get his own armor. He spotted Keith hunched over by the crate and smiled. Something was missing from it, though. A piece of light that always made Lance’s smiles so captivating. 

Keith stared at him. 

“Ready to kick some ass?” Lance asked. 

That, too, felt flat. Wrong, somehow. 

“You should be more worried about yourself,” was Keith’s retort. 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man,” he said, leaning over to get at his own armor. “I’ll take on both aliens we fight today and win.” 

“I’m sure you would.” 

The entire exchange was wired with nervous energy that Keith thought had faded. Talking and apologizing was supposed to have left them feeling normal, taken away the tension and the unease of being around Lance, and for a while, he thought it had. Teaching Lance card games had felt fine, but this wasn’t right. 

It was as if Lance was trying too hard to appear normal, unaffected by the rumors. 

Keith paused in the act of fastening armor over his legs to level a stare at Lance. Now that he wasn’t boasting, Lance’s face had fallen, smile fading and eyes darkening. It was almost the exact look Keith had seen on his face the day before. His chest seized and he spoke without meaning to. “Hey. Are you… doing okay?” 

Lance looked over, surprise flitting over his face before he schooled into a neutral, casual smile. “I’m fine,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Because things were still awkward between them was Keith’s guess. Maybe just apologizing wasn’t enough and the rumors still haunted Lance. Or maybe he still thought Keith hated him - something that Keith realized with a jolt he hadn’t gotten to talk about yet. He hadn’t been able to reassure Lance that there was no way in hell he could ever hate him. 

While he was thinking this, Keith left his gaze on Lance. He could feel his brows furrowing as he considered what to say next, but Lance spoke first.

“Look,” he said, sighing, “I’m cool. Totally cool. Coolest guy this side of the universe.” 

“Are you?” 

Lance blinked, then frowned. That fake smile left his face and he prodded at Keith with the piece of armor he held. “Put your armor on, Keithy-boy,” he said. “Isn’t that what you said?” 

If it weren’t for the pressure of a fight looming ever closer, Keith would have kept at it until he got a real reason for Lance’s behavior. But they had been in there long enough that Avilus would show up before too long, so he rolled his eyes and went back to his armor. He was done before Lance, standing by the crate with his helmet in one hand and watching the other boy fasten armor over his remaining arm.

Lance had abandoned even trying to look like he was in a good mood. Every inch of him looked stressed, worn out. Keith tilted his head, openly staring because something in Lance’s eyes made it look like he was going to collapse - and Keith would catch him if he did. 

The door opened as Lance was readjusting the armor over one of his hands. Keith finally dragged his eyes off his partner to see a guard walk through rather than Avilus. Immediately, he frowned. “Where’s Avilus?”

The guard was one he’d seen before but hadn’t bothered to put a name to. Just another faceless asshole. “He’s already in the stands,” they said. “I’ve brought you your weapons.” The crate was sitting by their feet. “And here’s your pre-fight pep talk: Don’t lose, or Avilus will probably have your heads. He’s real excited about this one.” 

Keith sighed. “Great,” he said quietly. Anything Avilus was excited for was bound to be awful. He strode forward to get the weapons’ crate, dragging it over to Lance before popping it open. The sword and his blade lay on top of Lance’s guns and Keith removed them in silence before pausing. He looked at Lance, who was staring into the crate, and then leaned down again. 

The rifle that Avilus had been repeatedly declaring as lost lay in its rightful place, beside Lance’s sniper and the pistol. Keith picked it up, handing it over to Lance without a word. “Huh,” Lance said. “I guess they found it. Took them long enough.” 

Over by the door, the guard spoke up. “What are you talking about? We found that thing the night you lost it.” 

Lance blinked, surprised, looking from his gun to the guard then to Keith. “Wait. Really?” His gaze flicked back to the guard. “Why hasn’t Avilus been giving it to me then? He said it was lost.” 

The guard shrugged. “How should I know? I’m not Avilus.” 

Lance and Keith exchanged another glance, but all Keith could do was copy the guard and shrug. Whatever his reasons behind it, Avilus had chosen to keep the rifle’s recovery a secret from them. It didn’t matter now, seeing as the gun was in Lance’s hands again. He got his pistol from the crate, made sure all his weapons were in place and pulled his helmet on. 

He expected Lance to do the same, but Lance was still staring at the gun in his hands. 

Keith sighed. “Lance.” 

The other boy jerked his head up. “Yeah?”

“Gonna get your weapons or what?” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, right.” He leaned down for the other gun, muttering to himself in Spanish as he did. Midsentence, he slipped back into English. “ - fighting, I can do fighting. Just gotta - “ And then right back to Spanish. 

Keith felt himself frowning. The idea that Lance had to psych himself up for an arena fight just added another thing to the list of questions he wanted to ask. Fighting was normal now; they went into the arena almost every single day and he’d never heard Lance talk to himself like this. He kept glancing at Lance as they made their way to the arena, but Lance didn’t seem like anything was bothering him. He looked calm, focused, and even smirked and winked when he caught Keith looking at him. 

He gave Lance an answer in the form of his usual unimpressed stare, a dry flat look that usually warranted either teasing or a complete change of subject. Both of which were difficult to accomplish with neither of them talking, so today Lance settled for elbowing Keith in the side the instant before the arena doors open. 

“Look sharp, Samurai,” he said. 

“Was… was that a pun?” 

He didn’t get a response other than a brief chuckle, Lance already turning to climb up the nearest rock. Keith let him go without a second glance, already making his way to his own cover. Casual conversation, that light banter, even the persistent idea that something was wrong with Lance fell aside to make room for the fight. He slid through rocks, scanning the area in front of him for an enemy and waiting for Lance to speak up and give him a direction. 

What he got instead was Lance cursing, a low hiss through the comms.

Keith quirked an eyebrow. He had found one of them, a heavyset alien with a rifle hoisted up on one shoulder. The guy was just standing there, lazily turning his head to gaze around the arena. Something about him seemed familiar.

Lance said, “Uh, Keith?” 

He grunted, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. He was only half-listening, eyes snapping from one piece of cover to the next to lay out a way to attack the guy from behind. 

“We might wanna be careful with this one.” 

When Lance didn’t immediately continue, Keith rolled his eyes. “Why is that?” he hissed. 

“We faced these two during the tournament,” Lance answered. His voice was low. “Keith, the one you’re looking at broke your arm.” 

For a moment, Keith didn’t react. He stared at the alien in front of him and then, slowly, drew further back behind the rock. No wonder he thought he remembered this one. The fight itself never cleared up, but he didn’t think he’d ever really forget that much pain. Sitting there now, Keith could feel the bones in his arm creaking as he moved. 

His jaw clenched, teeth snapping together. He gazed down at his armor, where the paint of his arm sat fresher than the rest. When his arm had been broken, the alien had snapped the armor as well. Zeta’s staff had fixed it right up, repainted it, but he knew the seam was there. And the alien that had done the damage was right there before him. 

“What do we do?” he asked quietly. 

Lance had been rambling, something about how Avilus was nuts to put them against these two again so soon. He cut himself off in the middle of a word. “Um.” A beat, where Keith could hear him take a deep breath. 

“Focus, Lance,” he said. “Help me figure this out.” 

Obviously they couldn’t just charge in there. Hadn’t exactly worked out so well last time.

Lance had come to the same conclusion. “Okay. Um, we gotta be careful. Not just hack-and-slash, y’know?” 

Keith gave a noise of agreement.

“I think we should leave this guy for now,” Lance continued. “I dunno if he’s tougher than his partner, but I’d just feel better if you left him alone right now. When the other one is down, I can help you take him out.” 

Sounded good for now. “Alright…” Keith backed away from his current cover, careful to keep it between him and the alien. He slid behind a piece of machinery as soon as he could. “Where’s his partner then?”

The answer came almost a full five seconds later. “Sorry, he’s hiding. Closer to their side, behind a cluster of rocks. Get moving. I can give you better directions when you’re closer.” 

He started moving the instant Lance had given him a general idea. “Right. Try to distract the other one for me, then.” He was ducking through rocks, squeezing in between two of them while he talked. “I’ll let you know if I need some help.” 

Lance hummed in his ear. “Can do, buddy.” 

Seconds later, a sniper shot ripped through the air above him. 

Keith didn’t stay and watch. He had his goal and, after a short while, Lance gave him short bursts of direction - “Go right,” and “Straight ahead,”; “Left,” then “Come up from behind him. Double back.” Keith followed every one, making a mental note to thank Lance somehow for keeping up with him and for keeping the other alien busy. 

Soon enough, he had his eyes on the second alien. This one was slimmer than the other, but not by much. Still large, still tall enough to rival even Avilus’s height. The gun it held was just a regular rifle, much like Lance’s. Easy to deal with, seeing as Keith had dealt with plenty from the Galra before even stepping foot in here. He took Lance’s advice and snuck up on the alien, creeping through the dirt and around rocks until he was close enough to lash out. His blow struck the alien right in the small of its back, where the armor it wore was thinner. It spun to face him, he ducked as it swung a fist, and from there, the fight went fast. 

Keith dodged and weaved around it, landing blows as gunfire peppered his heels and kept him moving. He did end up calling for Lance’s help - fighting this alien required near constant movement, made Keith stay quick on his feet, forced him to try and think ahead. Like always, adrenaline kept him moving but he knew his own limits. If he didn’t get help, he’d be too worn out to take on the other alien. 

Lance’s response was just, “I gotcha, my man. No worries.” 

He had no idea where Lance was at in relation to his position, but sniper fire hit his opponent in seconds. Between the long range fire and Keith slashing at it, the alien went down shortly. It dropped the gun in its hands to shield its face from a bullet that pinged off its arm instead and embedded into the dirt at Keith’s feet. The alien was breathing heavy, sickly green blood oozing from multiple cuts. 

Keith raised his foot and slammed it into the alien’s head, sending him backward. 

“Kick him again,” Lance said. There was an odd noise over the comms, a sort of metallic ringing under his words. “Y’know, just for good measure.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” This time, when his foot connected, the alien’s head snapped to the left hard. Keith considered it for another second or two before leaning down to take its weapon. Better safe than sorry, he figured. If this one managed to get up again, it’d be easier to take it down. “Where’s the first one?” he asked Lance.

“Uh, well… About that.” Lance cursed under his breath before saying in a rush, “He’s kinda been shooting at me since you went to fight the other one. Haha.” 

Keith whipped around fast, pushing himself into a sprint. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

“I’ve got it handled!”

Keith snarled an insult under his breath, pausing to toss the alien’s gun into a cluster of rocks. “Did he hit you?” he asked. 

Silence, just long enough for him to bark Lance’s name out. 

“Just - just a little bit,” Lance said. “Armor got it. Well - most of it.” 

“Most of it!?” Keith repeated. He turned around a large rock, skidding in the dirt. He was fairly certain the big alien was this way. 

“It’s fine,” Lance said. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He hadn’t wanted Lance to get shot at all. Would have preferred it if neither of them got shot, but that was impossible here. 

Gunfire up ahead, steady shots, one by one. Keith veered that way, nearly toppling into a slab of metal as he slipped over loose rocks. The goal was to avoid getting too close to this one - he suspected that he and Lance feared the same thing: That this guy would snag him again, break another bone. He planned to stick to that, maybe dart in and get a cheap hit in so that the alien would change targets.

And then Lance cursed again, his voice coinciding perfectly with another shot from the alien. Keith growled, charging forward. The alien came into view ahead, crouched behind a rock, taking shots at the vents above. The flimsy plan he’d been making fell apart instantly. Keith ran for his enemy without thinking, swinging the sword in his hand with the intention to really make it hurt. 

The alien must have heard him coming. It moved an inch and the sword slammed into the rock instead, waves of shock traveling through Keith’s arm. He paid it no attention, turning his glare onto the alien instead. 

Then, the alien actually spoke. Just one word - “Hello,” - but it was said with so much arrogance that Keith roared and lunge for him again. He would’ve have missed that blow too if a well-timed shot from Lance hadn’t slammed into the alien’s shoulder. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lance hissed through the comms.

Keith ignored him. All he could think of was the pain he’d endured from this alien, of Lance being shot by the same guy, and it burned in him. He needed to hurt this guy, drive him back until he fell over and quit. He attacked fast and viciously, but the alien either dodged or used his rifle to parry the blows. That this alien would his own weapon to push Keith’s blows aside rather than shoot at him was annoying. That he was even using a gun to parry a sword was irritating. 

Lance’s shots kept the alien in one place, more or less. Bullets hit the ground at his feet if he tried to move too far in one direction, rang out against his chest or shoulders if he tried to make a grab for Keith. 

The alien said, “Can your friend come down here?” while avoiding another hit. 

Keith growled, “Shut up.” His next hit actually landed, a combination of him aiming low and Lance aiming high.

The alien barely twitched. 

Lance chose then to say, “You’re gonna tire yourself out, man. Draw back some.”

Which meant go on the defensive. Put distance between himself and this guy, this bastard - Keith eyed the rifle in the alien’s hands, the scope attached to it. He was wary to back up too far and let that gun become the problem it could be. 

He pushed forward again. 

“Keith,” Lance persisted. “Come on. Listen to me.” 

The alien shoved another strike of the sword away and Keith’s frustration grew. 

“We can do this,” Lance was saying, “but you gotta pull back.” 

He knew Lance was right. At the very least, Keith needed to fall back to put thought into this - calm down a bit until he could attack without his anger clawing through his veins and clouding his mind. Reluctantly, he drew back, taking a step back and then another. 

The alien watched him, arms lowering the gun from the defensive position he’d been holding it in. Scratches marred the paint on its side, long streaks of silver peeking through the paint. 

Lance sighed. “Good. Just… keep backing up. There’s cover behind you.” 

Keith took another step back, still tense, eyes locked on the alien before him. He had no idea how far away he was, how many more steps it’d take, but he waited for something to happen. 

So when the alien dropped his gun and dove for him, he wasn’t surprised. He was barely fast enough to avoid it, the alien’s fingers scraping against his armored wrist. Keith twisted, sliding to the right and backing away quickly. There was a stream of steady cursing in his ear, Lance’s voice background noise as he prepared himself for another strike. 

The alien said, “You’re quick,” and swung his meaty fist back in Keith’s direction. 

Keith ducked, swinging out with the sword. It caught the alien along the underside of one arm, scratching armor and splitting open the thin suit underneath. Again, the guy barely seemed to notice. The roles reversed - the alien attacked, Keith dodging fists and barely escaping attempts to grab him. He didn’t know how long he kept it up, probably only a handful of seconds, but he stumbled when he caught sight of Lance standing on a rock behind the alien. 

A hand snatched him by the arm, the alien saying, “Ha! Got you.” That same instant, gunfire lit up his back, a barrage of bright lasers that didn’t stop until the alien released Keith to turn around. 

Keith backed up as soon as he was able, sliding into an attacking stance, eyes flitting from the alien to Lance and back again. 

“Oh,” the alien said. “He came down. How nice.” 

Keith said, “Are you crazy?”

Lance ignored him, his focus on the alien. There was an anger there that Keith hadn’t seen before. “Not gonna let you touch him this time,” he said. He raised the rifle and let loose with it again, cutting off the alien’s laughter. 

Just like that, the fight snapped back into a hectic pace. The alien dove for his gun, hands closing around it at the same time Lance shot up the ground by his feet and Keith took a swing at him. Like his partner before him, it was harder for the alien to dodge every blow when they came from two people. Even more so since Lance’s rifle was rapid-fire and automatic, firing in fast bursts of laser bullets. 

Their opponent turned from them, ducking into the cover, and Keith charged in after him. He heard Lance following, footsteps pausing just for him to jump forward with the jetpack. This was something he’d done before, whenever an enemy forced him to the arena floor - use the jetpack to get from one spot to another faster than he could run, pausing every now and again to fire at his target. It worked well. The constant fire had the alien using cover more often than not. Occasionally, he poked his head out to take a shot at them but his gun was slower to fire, harder to get more than one shot off before Lance was laying into him again. 

And Keith, still running on the last flames of anger in his gut, used that to his advantage. While Lance kept the alien in check, Keith circled around him. He swung his sword low, aiming for the back of the alien’s knees. 

The blow never landed. 

In one quick movement, the alien turned, reaching out for Keith, hand spread and coming right for his face. Startled, Keith used the momentum of his swing to drag himself forward, bypassing the alien’s arm. He rolled out of the way, scrambling to his feet quickly - 

In the time it took him to get back up, Lance had shot himself forward again. He landed on the dirt right in between Keith and the alien. Keith stared at his back. The alien, already moving to grab at Keith, went for Lance instead, taking hold of him in both hands. 

The alien’s rifle lay on the ground beside him. 

He lifted Lance up, stood, and before Keith had a chance to react, threw Lance into the air with a loud grunt. 

Lance’s rifle tumbled to the ground, landing beside the alien’s. 

Despite himself - despite knowing this was a fight, this was serious, he shouldn’t turn his back - Keith tracked Lance’s movement with a turn of his head. The alien had flung him ahead of them both and Keith watched with a growing sickness in his gut as Lance slammed into the side of a boulder, spinning off of it and into one of the many slabs of metal jutting up from the floor. Screams of pain exploded over the comms. 

The whole thing had taken a few seconds. 

It was another two before Keith jolted forward, shock holding him into place. He’d thrown himself into the fight without caring about himself, terrified of Lance experiencing the same pain he had. Yet Lance had been hurt anyway. 

The alien was already moving, both his own gun and Lance’s in his hands. He was sprinting toward Lance with large, lumbering steps. 

Keith took off after him. While this guy may be much larger than him, Keith was faster. He sped past the alien as fast as he could, lungs aching from the fight and the chase beforehand. He skidded to a stop in the dirt by Lance’s prone form, glancing over his body quickly. 

Lance lay on his side, both arms curled around his stomach. He was breathing harshly, the sound of it loud in Keith’s ears - almost as loud as Keith’s own heart pounding against his ribs. The sniper was still on his back. 

Keith dropped to his knees beside Lance, reaching for Lance with one hand. He still held the sword in his other, grip tight enough to hurt by now. 

His fingers shook. 

Lance looked up at him, eyes damp with tears. He choked out, “Keith - “

Keith knew what he was trying to say; he heard the footsteps approaching fast and turned, throwing his arm up. The shield sprang to life an instant before the bullets would have reached them. Crouched by Lance, Keith couldn’t exactly move to attack. If he did, the alien would strike Lance instead, take out the injured one and then come for Keith. He knew that.

He also knew, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that if he didn’t protect Lance, this alien would kill him. 

With a guttural snarl, Keith sprang forward. He swung the shield out to catch the gun in the alien’s hands - Lance’s rifle - and it went skittering through the dirt. The alien took a step back, seemingly surprised at the sudden attack. Still standing before Lance, still holding the shield up, Keith took a chance and swung out with the sword. 

At the same time, he said, “Lance! Get up.”

A groan from behind him that echoed through the helmet. 

The alien dodged his attack easily, the other gun already in his hands. 

“You gotta get up, Lance,” Keith said. He tried again, a quick jab to make the alien move back. “I can’t do this without you.” 

Instead of firing, the alien turned the butt of the rifle toward Keith and slammed it down into the shield. He grimaced, shifting his legs under the weight of the attack. 

“Lance.” 

More grunting, heavy breaths laced with pain. 

Faintly, the sound of skittering rocks. 

Keith forced himself not to look back, keep his attention trained on the alien. Even when he felt a hand on his thigh, another slinging around his waist. He tensed but didn’t move. Couldn’t stop himself from sparing a split-second glance, eyes landing on Lance’s hand raising up - Lance’s hand holding onto Keith’s pistol. 

Without a word, Lance shot all four bullets straight at the alien’s face. It took several steps back as the bullets slammed into its helmet. 

Then, Lance’s voice, rough and low in his ear: “Shield up.” 

Keith was about to ask what he meant when his feet left the ground. It took a second for it to sink in - Lance, with a working jetpack, had just used it to get them both away from the alien. In that time, Lance’s other arm had curled around Keith’s waist, the gun a heavy weight against his stomach now. Lance landed them atop a rock with a sharp noise, a gasp. He cursed, and for a brief moment, leaned all his weight against Keith. 

“What are you doing?” Keith asked. His heart was in his throat, nerves alight from the fight, the adrenaline coursing through him - and because Lance was heavy against him, arms tight around him. 

“Just - hang on.” 

Again, Keith’s feet left solid ground. He heard the snap of a gun firing and steadied the shield to absorb the gunshot aimed at them. Lance brought him up past the lights of the arena - several of which shined straight into Keith’s eyes, causing him to screw them closed - and then they landed. His feet slid over a slick surface. Lance’s weight was on his back again, heavy and too much to keep upright. His legs buckled as his feet lost traction. Keith snapped his eyes open again, bright afterimages of lights in his eyes, and slammed both hands out on whatever was in front of him. 

A large vent took the brunt of their combined weight. Lance was breathing harshly still, every sharp intake rough in Keith’s ear. He seemed reluctant to let Keith go and was muttering apologies in between each breath. 

“You’re fine,” Keith said. Which was stupid. Lance was very much not fine. He twisted in Lance’s arms until the grip around his middle loosened, until he could face his partner. The second he did, his heart leapt into his throat again and he swallowed hard. 

Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes, but he looked at Keith with ferocity and determination. “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t let the bastard hurt you again.” 

Keith frowned, reaching for Lance’s face without thinking. He stopped with his hand between them. “You’re out of your mind,” he said, voice quiet. “You got yourself hurt instead. How’s that okay?”

Lance attempted a smile but it came out as a pained grimace. He let Keith move him over to lean against the vent and immediately wrapped an arm around his middle again. 

Keith hovered over him. “How much does it hurt?” 

“Remember when we first got here?” Lance asked. His eyes found Keith and he waited until Keith nodded to continued. “Some alien threw metal at me. Remember that? Feels kinda like that. Only - only worse.” 

That didn’t sound good. Keith released his grip on his sword, letting it hit the vents with a clatter. He reached for Lance again, wanting to comfort him somehow. He didn’t know how.

Lance caught one of his hands. “Go beat that guy,” he said. 

Keith blinked. 

He’d forgotten about the fight momentarily, caught up in making sure Lance would be alright. He still wasn’t sure of that. 

“Right,” he said slowly. He leaned away from Lance, taking his sword in hand again - in his other hand, give his right a break for now. Fingers were stiff. “Just, uh... “ He flicked his gaze to the arena floor far below them. “Keep talking, okay?” 

Lance was silent for a beat, then he barked a short laugh that trailed into a wheeze and a groan. “Don’t make me laugh. Why you wanna hear me anyway?”

“Make sure you’re still awake,” Keith muttered. He glanced back at Lance to see the other boy smiling at him and felt heat rising over his neck. “Just - just ‘cause it’d be way too hard for anyone to get you down!”

Lance’s smile grew. “Whatever you say,” he said. “Go. Take the bitch down.” 

He’d rather stay up here, stay with Lance, but no one would be allowed out of here unless the fight ended. So long as Lance stayed awake, Keith had an advantage. The alien couldn’t reach Lance up here - but if he took out Keith, he’d just have to wait for Lance to fall unconscious from his injuries. They’d lose. 

Keith took a breath to steel himself and nodded. He left Lance sitting there and slinked along the vents. Lance told him to watch his step and Keith listened, moving slow and making sure his steps were steady before putting his weight down. Lance hadn’t been wrong all those times he complained about being up here - everything was slick, not made for someone to actually stand here. 

Still, he searched the arena below with narrowed eyes until he found the alien. 

He stood by a large rock outcropping, head turning from the rock to the vents above. Most likely, he was attempting to figure out how to get up there. 

Lance was still talking, something about the vents being deadly and how they might kill him someday. Keith made a face at the topic he’d chosen but didn’t bother to say anything. He had a job to do and step one was getting back down to the floor without killing himself. He moved further along the vent until he found a tall piece of machinery that didn’t look too far down. 

This wasn’t going to be easy, though. He muttered a curse under his breath and readied to drop down. 

Right before he slid over the edge, Lance said, “Be careful.” 

Keith hit the top of the machinery with a grunt, rolling along its edge. The impact hurt, but it wasn’t too bad. “I’m fine,” he said. “Not my preferred way to get back down, though.”

“Sorry.” Under the layer of pain in his voice, Lance sounded amused. “I know you’d rather be carried down in my arms.” 

Keith was going to ignore the immediate warmth in his skin at that. “Uh huh,” he said, making his way down the machine to the floor. “You keep telling yourself that.” 

Lance laughed again, a low sound that cut off quick. After a moment of silence, he started talking again. Mostly nonsense, stuff that Keith didn’t even bother listening to as he started forward. 

He couldn’t be too sure where the alien was at. From above, it’d looked easy to find, but on the ground, with so much in the way, he only had a general idea. He moved slow, kept low to the ground, sword clutched in one hand. Before he moved from any piece of cover, he scanned the area ahead, waiting for any movement. And then, finally, he spotted the alien walking around, rifle raised. 

Keith stayed put, listening to Lance’s voice and not hearing any of the words. He narrowed his eyes at the large alien as it approached where he was hiding, and made himself wait. Even when his muscles tensed and his reflexes yelled for him to move, he stayed still. Rushing forward had already gotten his partner hurt - Lance had only come down to help Keith because Keith couldn’t keep himself from lashing out, from attacking without thinking. With Lance injured above him, Keith refused to let it happen again. 

He had to win this and he couldn’t do it by just blindly attacking. 

Instead, he waited for the right moment. For the alien to be close enough, to turn his back on where Keith was hiding. He struck quick, diving from his piece of cover to strike, landing one hit on the alien’s back. The second one was blocked, but he was sprinting away toward cover before the alien could really hurt him. A noise of frustration followed him as he retreated, gunfire piercing the air. Keith ignored it, sliding behind cover and moving forward again, fast as he could. He circled the alien and repeated the whole thing. 

The alien was prepared, dodging both swings of the sword. He snagged Keith by one arm and pulled him forward, but Keith twisted out of his grip, sliding under the aliens legs and running for cover again. 

He reached behind him as he ran, unsheathing the blade at his back. It transformed in his grip as he ducked from one piece to another. When he hunched down to strike again, he realized something. It was too quiet. “Lance? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.” He sounded worse, like he was in more pain. “I’m still hangin’ on.” 

“I’ll wrap this up,” Keith said. He looked at the blade in his hand with a frown, wondering just how fast he could finish this mess. The alien was fast, smart, and strong. He had to be better. “Stay awake. I can’t catch you if you fall off that.” 

Lance tsked in his ear. “Aw, mulletman. I thought you liked me.” 

Keith paid him no attention. He was rushing the alien again, lashing out with the blade. It was curved differently from the sword he’d had and scratched along the alien’s neck when he lunged. Keith smirked. 

The alien said, “Where did you get another one!?” and made to slam his rifle into Keith’s head. 

Keith ducked, twisting around and striking from behind. 

He was on the move again when Lance said, “Question.”

He didn’t answer, too busy moving. 

Lance continued anyway. “Who’s the best shot in the galaxy?”

At that, Keith stopped. “What?”

“Answer me.”

He blinked, cast a look briefly up at the vents, then back to the alien. He was moving through the cover now, looking for Keith and getting a bit too close for comfort. Keith sighed. “I dunno, Lance,” he said, sprinting across a foot of open space for another rock. “Is it you?”

“Damn right.” 

The sound of sniper fire halted Keith midstep. He whirled, eyes wide and watched as the rifle in the alien’s hands went flying. The alien cursed, shaking out his hand and turning to stare up at the vents. Keith was rooted to the spot, mouth moving before words even came out. “Are you ...are you out of your mind?” His voice sounded weak to his ears.

“I’m not out of this yet,” Lance said. More sniper fire, a round landing on the alien’s torso. “I got your back.” 

Keith was going to kill him. 

They were going to win this, he was dragging Lance to the medic, and then he’d kill him. He urged himself forward, saying, “I had this!” He advanced on the alien with Lance in his mind, slicing at him with the blade in tandem with the sniper fire from above. 

Lance was injured. He shouldn’t be doing this, forcing himself to fight through the pain. 

But the sniper fire didn’t stop. Even when Keith scored a hit on the alien’s legs, slicing through the back of his knees. Even as the alien fell to the ground on its hands, snarling curses and still trying to snatch Keith. A sniper round slammed directly into the top of the alien’s helmet, sending him facefirst into the dirt. Tense, Keith stood over him for three seconds, staring at him and willing him to get back up. His worry over Lance had quickly spun into anger and he needed to hit something.

When the alien didn’t move, he scoffed and stalked away. “Get the fuck down here,” he snapped. He was spinning the blade behind him, not even noticing the flash as it transformed back to its dagger state. He shoved it into its sheath, glaring up at the vents and coming to a stop near their entrance to the arena. “Now, Lance.” 

Lance didn’t answer, but seconds later, his dark clad form was lowering itself to the ground. The jetpack eased up as he approached the ground, sniper in hand. Keith advanced on his form quickly, hands curling into fists. 

He was going to hit him, shake sense into him. Make him see he couldn’t do this kind of thing, that making himself keep going like that was hurting him - 

When Lance’s feet hit the ground, he stumbled with a wheeze that Keith heard over the comms. The sniper fell to the dirt and he nearly collapsed along with it. Keith sped up, catching him, arms going around Lance’s waist in an instant. He felt Lance grip his arms, knew his own hands were shaking again. “You’re an idiot,” he growled. He didn’t want to look Lance in the face, didn’t think he could without hitting him, so he ducked his head down until his helmet hit Lance’s shoulder.

Lance laughed, light and breathy. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “I’m awake, aren’t I?”

“You can’t even  _ stand.” _

“Don’t need to. You’re doing that for both of us.” 

“I’m going to hurt you,” Keith said. 

Not that he could. The anger had evaporated the instant Lance had fallen into him. 

Lance patted him with one hand. “It’s cool. I worry about you too, dude.” 

Keith growled for him to shut up even as his arms tightened around Lance’s waist. 

When the guards came to usher them out, Keith kept Lance with him. He pulled one of Lance’s arms over his shoulders and glared when a guard tried to take hold of him. Lance leaned against him on the way out of the arena and Keith let him, led him to the door and out into the hall beyond. For a moment, he was looking forward to going back to the training room. They’d be alone and he could berate Lance about his stupid decisions while helping his friend take the armor off.

That thought screeched to a halt as soon as he laid his eyes on Avilus.

There was a wide grin on the alien’s face and Keith frowned in return. He felt Lance stiffen in his grip. “That,” Avilus said, “was quite a show, boys.” He strode forward to clap a hand on Keith’s back. “That’s what I like to see from you - an excellent fight! Good teamwork, great fighting skills - from both of you.” He slid his eyes from Keith to Lance and the grin on his face only grew wider. “Those shots at the end, my boy - amazing. Excellent. Exactly how you should be shooting.” 

Keith looked over at Lance to see the other boy staring at Avilus, confusion all over his face. 

“This is how I get my money’s worth,” Avilus continued. “I expect nothing less from either of you from here on out.” He looked between them both and barked a loud, short laugh. “Take our victor here to the medic,” he said to the nearby guards. “I’ve got winnings to collect.” 

Not a single person moved until Avilus disappeared around the corner. Then, a guard stepped forward and Keith wasn’t surprised that it was Khattala. She took Lance’s other arm and hefted it over her own shoulder, taking some of the weight off Keith. “Let’s go,” she said,  nodding in the direction Avilus had gone. “We’ll take the elevator up.”

Keith blinked. “Uh, okay. Sure.” 

She started forward then, not waiting for him to answer and not giving him any option other than to follow her. She led him halfway down the curved hall and then took a sharp right down another, far shorter hall. There was only the one door at the end of it - the door to an elevator. She reached over to press the button.

Lance spoke up then. “Is… is Keith coming too?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Khattala said. “Don’t see why not.” 

Keith didn’t either. He would have put up a fight if they told him no. 

Lance seemed hesitant, though. “Are you sure? I mean… I thought that was, uh, a special privilege kinda thing?” 

Keith shot him a glance. The elevator doors slid open. “What are you talking about?” He and Khattala moved Lance inside as he said, “Does it really matter?”

“Just… It’s weird, is all.” 

On Lance’s other side, Khattala huffed a breath. “What he means is that you going with your partner to the medics is a privilege only given to champions of the arena.” 

“Exactly,” Lance said.

“Oh,” Keith said. “Then - hang on - “

“So why is he - ?” Lance started.

Khattala shut them both up with one look. “Who do you think you just beat?” she said. 

The elevator dinged at them. None of them made a move to leave. “Those two are the arena champions,” Keith said slowly. 

She nodded. “Close. They  _ were _ the champions.” She tugged Lance along, making Keith stumble as he moved too. “Congratulations, boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i dislike writing action scenes  
> also me: writes like a seven page fight scene
> 
> next chapter:  
> \- one big thing is understood  
> \- pidge gets the green light  
> \- and lance finally reaches his breaking point


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a healthy breakfast of langst to start off your day right!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know pidge's part is short this time, but that means her next one will likely be long as hell. (:  
> oh btw, my friends reaction to this chapter was "i teared up" so yknow. 
> 
> #langst for the soul  
> just in case the summary didn't make it obvious enough.

They talked with Allura. It took a bit of convincing from Shiro, the compiled leads Pidge had acquired, and a full explanation of (and apology for) what Pidge had planned to do the night before, but she relented. To a point. “We are helping them with the Galra. Including you,” Allura said. They were at the dining table, standing over Pidge’s laptop. Hunk and Coran were off in the kitchen. “It’s our duty. They called for Voltron and we will help.” 

Pidge sighed. “I know.” 

Allura bent over to peer at the ship displayed on the screen. “But,” she continued, “I suppose when the Galra are defeated, we won’t need all of us.” 

Slowly, a grin spread over Pidge’s face. She sank into the nearest chair, eyes still locked on the laptop. 

Shiro was behind her now, his Galra hand on the back of the chair. “Thanks, Allura,” he said. 

Allura flashed them both a smile. “Well… I would rather have us all here,” she said, straightening back up. “After all, escorting these people to a new planet will not be easy. But I’d rather know when Pidge leaves instead of finding her missing.” 

“I would’ve come back,” Pidge muttered. She got a quick glance from both Shiro and Allura but thankfully neither of them responded. If they had, she would have left. Enduring another lecture was not part of her plan for today. 

Of course, other than getting Allura on board to let her leave, there wasn’t much of plan. She left the information up so she could fill Coran and Hunk in on what exactly she wanted to do. It was easy, simple: Follow the ship to the next location, hunt for more information, track the bastards down, get their friends back. 

Easy. 

Naturally, they all had questions and opinions. By the time breakfast was over, Hunk had gone over at least a dozen different ways the plan could mess up, Shiro had pointed out holes in the plan, Allura rescinded and reapproved Pidge leaving three separate times, and Coran - 

Well, Coran only had one thing to say. “You aren’t going on your own, are you?” he asked. “Bit of a dangerous mission for just one of you.” 

Pidge had just finished explaining to Hunk why Green wasn’t going to run out of fuel and leave her stranded in the middle of a quasar and stared at the Altean blankly. “I was planning on it,” she said. “I’m sure I can handle myself just fine, so if you’re worried about that - “

“You’re so small,” Coran interrupted. “Anyone could run right over you and not notice.” 

Pidge frowned. “I don’t think they’ll miss the giant lion robot, Coran.” 

“You’re not always going to be in Green, are you?” 

Pidge paused to think of how best to explain the concept of a teenage girl surviving alone in space - because, really? Teenage girls on Earth survived all kinds of awful things. She could absolutely survive for a few days without backup. 

Before she got her thoughts together, Allura spoke. “I agree with Coran,” she said. “I’d feel a lot better about this if someone went with you.” She had her head in one chin, mice skittering around her bowl of food goo. As she talked, one of them reached it and took out a small handful. 

“That’ll take you down one Lion,” Pidge said, pointing at Allura with her spoon. “You already said you wished we would all be here.” 

Allura actually pouted at her. “Pidge. I’m just concerned.” 

“As you should be,” Coran said. 

“Are you sure you can’t wait until we all leave?” Hunk asked. “That makes more sense.” 

Allura nodded, raising her head to slam her palm on the table. “Yes! Hunk is right. I don’t think I can let you go, Pidge.” 

Pidge groaned. Four times now. “I’m going,” she said loudly. 

“Alright,” Shiro said. “How about we wait until we’ve taken care of the Galra to discuss how all this will happen?” He was sitting between Pidge and Hunk and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Pidge obviously wants to go and you’ve already given her permission, Allura. If we don’t send her off, she’s just going to sneak off in the middle of the night.” 

Pidge would have argued that, but he wasn’t wrong. If Allura actually refused in the end, Pidge was leaving that day. 

It took another varga of arguing before they came to agreement. Pidge would stay to help with the Galra threat surrounding the aliens. She and Coran would continue to line up potential planets for them to settle on. When the threat was certain to be eliminated, when the alien captain had picked out their new planet, Allura promised to open up a wormhole and send Pidge on her way. 

And she’d take Shiro with her. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Being Zeta’s champions was going to take getting used to. Keith spent the time dragging Lance from the elevator to the medical bay turning the concept over in his head. The word itself implied more than just being one of the arena’s enslaved fighters, like being a champion meant you were better, stronger than the others. 

It also tripped a nerve in Keith, made him think of Shiro. Something he didn’t want. 

His grip tightened on Lance and he forced the champion issue away as they approached the medbay. Khattala laid her hand on the pad by the door; the instant it opened, both of them tugged Lance inside. He had fallen quiet aside from great shaking breaths. Keith glanced at him to see his eyes trained on the floor, glassy and lost. 

He said, “Shit.” 

At the same time, the stout medic popped out a door in the back of the room. He took one look at Lance and said what Keith was thinking: “Lay him down before he passes out.” He waved them over to where he stood and through the door, into a room Keith had yet to see. A divider cut off part of the room from sight; the half they had access to held three beds against the wall across from the door. To their right, the entire wall was made up of cabinets and shelving. 

If the room they had just come through was a clinic, then this was a hospital. 

Keith let Khattala lead him to the nearest bed and together, they laid him back. He didn’t resist, falling back limply. Keith stared at him, not liking the way his eyes fluttered closed before reopening. A second later, the medic was shoving him bodily out of the way, small hands pushing at his back. Keith turned to glare at the small alien and was ignored. 

“Always in the way,” the medic muttered. “Shouldn’t even be in here. Useless, all of them.” He had pushed a small stool next to the bed and climbed on top of it, reaching to pull armor from Lance’s legs. 

Khattala was already doing the same, dropping a piece off of his arms. She shot Keith a brief look. “You can help with this,” she said. “It’d speed things along a bit.” 

Didn’t have to tell him twice. He skirted the medic to get closer and then he paused, glancing over Lance’s face. He even looked sick - paler than usual, sweat trickling down the contours of his face. Keith reached out a hand, placing it against Lance’s helmet. 

Another sharp order from Khattala startled him into moving again, had him actually bending over Lance to pull the helmet off. He slid a gloved hand under Lance’s head as he did, not wanting him to hit the table. As he dropped it to the floor, Lance’s eyes locked onto his own. Still glassy, not all there. “Keith?” He sounded wrecked and weak and how the hell did he get this bad so fast? 

Keith swallowed. “Yeah?” 

Lance didn’t answer other than a quiet hum. 

Keith didn’t move after that, not until the medic elbowed him out of the way to help Khattala with the chest piece. As soon as he stepped away, Khattala ordered him to collect the armor and, with nothing else to do other than stare vacantly at Lance, Keith listened. He picked up every piece and dropped it onto the next bed over beside sitting down beside the pile to watch the medic work. Khattala came to stand beside him, leaning against the end of the bed. 

The medic grumbled to himself as he worked, constantly moving from the stool to grab another tool out of a cabinet or off a shelf. He ran some kind of scanner over Lance and made a face that cause his slimy skin to wrinkle severely. Keith lost interest in him quickly, his attention zeroing in on Lance and staying there. Every few seconds, Lance would turn his head slightly or shift one of his arms or legs. It was almost like he was watching the medic, trying to shy away from the tools placed near his body. 

Keith hated seeing him like this, injured and quiet. He couldn’t do anything about it, though, other than sit and wait impatiently. And the longer he sat there, the more his own body let him know how exhausted he was. His legs ached, a dull quiet throb that made him want to lay down and sleep. 

It felt like too much time had passed before the medic finally stopped circling Lance. He walked to the wall between the two beds and slapped one hand on it. Instantly, holographic displays sprang to life over Lance’s bed. That got Keith’s attention and he squinted, trying to make out what it meant - all the text was in alien scripts, but that was definitely an image of a body up there. Apparently, the holograms had gotten Lance’s attention too. He said, “How bad is it?” 

Keith glanced over and frowned. 

Lance had pushed himself up on one elbow, seemingly oblivious to the shaking of his own arm. His head was craned backward to peer up at the displays.

The medic said, “Stop doing that,” and immediately reached over to make him lay flat again. Which, naturally, had Lance complaining to himself. The medic went back to staring at the displays. 

Khattala cleared her throat. “Exactly what is wrong with him?” There was a threat underlying her words and Keith glanced her way briefly. 

By the time his attention was back on the medic, he had caught the small alien discretely shifting further from Khattala. “It’s, ah… It’s not pretty, but he’ll live.” 

“ ‘M always pretty,” Lance muttered. 

“How bad?” Keith asked. 

The medic reached up to the displays and pulled one down - the image of a body, brought down to his eye level. “Well,” he started, “his right leg has two separate fractures.” 

Immediately, Keith felt a rock sink into his gut. He glanced at Lance to find Lance staring at the ceiling, a resigned look on his face. 

“Left leg has one,” the medic continued. “None of them are too bad and should be fine within the next quintant. He also has a sprained ankle, a minor concussion, and…” He paused, consulting the scan again. “And bruising around his abdomen and collarbone.” 

“Three fractures,” Keith repeated. He’d gotten stuck on that fact, found himself wondering how much it had hurt for Lance to fly the both of them up to the vents. And it was not a surprise that he’d stumbled after hitting the ground. Keith tore his eyes from Lance to the medic, frowning. “How is he supposed to be fine in a day? Or quintant, whatever. It’s three fractures!”

“Very minor ones,” the medic said, waving him off with one hand. “It isn’t like he broke any bones - which, even if he did, I could fix in less than a quintant anyway.” 

“But - “ 

“Do you need help too?” the medic asked. He still hadn’t looked over, shoving the body scan away and pulling another display to him. 

Keith’s frown deepened. “No.” 

“Then leave. I have to help this one.” 

“I’m not leaving without Lance,” Keith said. 

Khattala sighed. “Good luck with that,” she said quietly. 

The medic turned his head just to glare at Keith. “He’s staying overnight.” A quiet groan rose from Lance. “You,” the medic said, pointing a finger into Keith’s face, “are not. Go now.” 

“I’m not leaving,” Keith snapped. He’d sleep in here if he had too, that was fine. 

The medic narrowed his eyes. “I hate letting you people in here,” he said. “Acting like you own the place, like you won’t be in the way.” 

A retort died in his throat as a hand curled around his arm. He turned his head to meet Khattala’s steely-eyed gaze. “Let’s go,” she said. “Lance’ll be back before you know it.” She glanced over at him quickly, brow furrowing. “And he’ll be good as new - or close to it, at least.” 

He knew that meant Lance would still have some pain for a few days. He’d experienced it himself. But that didn’t stop Keith from conjuring the image of Lance with a permanent injury, some kind of limp from all those fractures. It had his stomach churning as Khattala pulled him forcefully from the room. Keith’s gaze lingered on Lance until the door closed behind him. 

She wouldn’t let him wait in this part of the medic office either, nor outside in the hall. She said he had to go get changed, put his armor away. Keith listened and followed her, but he wasn’t happy about it. He spent the ride in the elevator frowning at the floor; in the training room, he changed in silence, packing the armor away for a guard to find before leaving the room. From there, he ate dinner alone and returned to the barracks. Their fight had been the last of the day, a main event of sorts, so no could blame him for lying on the bed right after he returned from it. 

In the barracks, the typical alien chatter went on around him. Keith lay on his side, facing the wall, and told himself not to think about Lance. There wasn’t any point to worrying - it wasn’t as if Lance were in danger. He was a floor above, being treated for his injuries. Still, it was hard to draw his mind away, and even then there was only one other thing he could think about.

They were champions now, whatever that really meant. Were their fights going to be more difficult? Tougher enemies that were more skilled and able to take them both down? Were they going to be expected to win every single battle? Avilus, he knew, would be even more insufferable - the massive alien already pushed for them to win all the time, so winning a title like this was only going to make it worse. Too much of this was unknown and Keith hated that. He fell asleep with his mind going in circles from the arena to being a champion to Lance, injured and weak and hurting. 

✦✦✦✦✦

The differences between being an arena champion and a regular fighter made themselves known fast. First, Keith woke up late the day after they won the initial champion fight to see Lance standing over him, eyebrows raised. 

Lance said, “You’re still asleep?” 

Keith blinked. “What? When did you get here?”

“Like five minutes ago, maybe.” He looked tired, worn down, and as Keith watched, he stifled a yawn behind one hand. “We both missed breakfast, by the way. I think the chef’ll give us food, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. A second later, he was sitting down. 

Keith scrambled to sit up,  moving out of the way before Lance sat on his legs. “Missed breakfast?” he repeated. 

Lance nodded. “Yeah. It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Keith’s answer was a small noise. There hadn’t been one day where the guards hadn’t woken him up, where he and Lance hadn’t been shoved into the cafeteria with everyone else. Today was even weirder though, because - “We had a fight scheduled,” he said, “for just after breakfast.” 

“I know!” Lance leaned back on his hands, eyes finding Keith’s. “What the hell is up with that? I feel like Avilus should be killing us for not being out there.” 

Keith could only shrug. It was definitely weird, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Silence was settling between them, broken only by another badly stifled yawn from Lance. Keith watched the other boy rub at his eyes before blurting out, “Are you alright? I mean. You’re not… in pain, right?” 

Lance’s answer came as he was lying back on the bed. “Not really. Legs kinda hurt, but it’s fine.” 

Relief flooded through him and Keith sighed. That silence was creeping up again and he didn’t bother to break it, relaxing against the wall behind him. His feet nudged Lance’s leg and he fidgeted, pulling his legs closer to his body. Despite sleeping in, he felt like he could sleep for hours more. All he’d have to do was lie down again, with Lance beside him this time, and he’d be out in seconds. Before he could, though, a loud voice echoed through the hall outside, yelling for someone to move. 

Keith exchanged a look with Lance, and then Lance was standing again, heading for the door. It took a second shout for Keith to follow him, slipping his boots on as he went, untied laces dangling to the floor. 

That was how the second difference came. 

A pair of guards outside were yelling at the fighters to move aside, stay out of the way. Three other aliens, clad in the bland dark clothing of Zeta’s slaves, were carrying large pieces of furniture down the hall. None of the aliens paid the two in the doorway any attention, hurrying along. Leaning out into the hall, Keith’s gaze settled on a third guard near the end of it. He watched as the guard bodily shoved another alien out of the way and then pulled his head back. 

“Okay,” he said. “The guards are being assholes.” 

Lance was quiet for a few seconds longer. “I think I know what’s happening,” he said, voice low. He looked at Keith and a smile was growing quick over his face. “Keith, we’re champions.” 

Keith raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. So?”

“So! What do champions get Keith?” 

“Harder fights, probably.” 

Hands settled on his shoulder, Lance grinning at him now. “No, Keithy-boy. We get a room.” He took one hand off Keith to gesture down the hall. “A private room. For us.” 

Keith stared at him blankly. “Champions get private rooms?” he asked. He knew the rooms were there, knew the twins’ had one, but aforementioned rooms belonging to arena champions was new. Part of him felt like he should have connected the dots - who else in the slave quarters would have private rooms? - but the rest of him was immediately distracted by Lance yanking him down the hall, hand in hand. 

They skirted past the aliens holding furniture, Lance paying no attention to the pair of guards yelling at them. They passed the cafeteria, where Keith got a good look at a group of aliens watching in interest. There wasn’t much to focus on in Zeta outside of fights, so someone moving into a private room must be big news. He wondered if the news had already broke, if the aliens in the barracks knew he and Lance were the new champions. 

Or maybe it hadn’t spread yet. Maybe it was hanging over everyone, a shift in the air. 

Lance stopped in front of the last guard, the one near the end of the hall. This one, Keith recognized as Rinoc, his occasional trainer. Rinoc sighed at Lance’s bright grin. “You two are in the way,” he said. “Haven’t even got the room set up.” 

“But it’s our room,” Lance said. His hand was still tight around Keith’s. 

“Yeah,” Rinoc said. “We still have to set it up for you. Go eat. Come back after. Should be done then.”  He waved them off then, making room for one of the aliens to carry in what looked like parts of a bed frame. 

Most of the aliens in the cafeteria weren’t eating. They had probably been pushed into the room hastily to clear the hall and, as a result, stood around in groups chatting and peering out the open doors. Keith ate his food in silence, glancing over the crowd and occasionally catching an alien looking at them. If they didn’t know yet, they certainly suspected. 

Lance, on the other hand, pouted down at his breakfast and pushed the food around. Eventually, he sighed, tossing the utensil down. “I can’t eat,” he said. “I wanna take a nap. In our private room.” 

At that, the nearby aliens swiveled their heads to look at them.

Lance was oblivious. “I hope we get a good bed,” he said, propping his head up in one hand. “The bunk sucks, and the medbay bed is uncomfortable as hell.” He was gazing at Keith but the look in his eyes was far away. “Slept like shit last night, y’know. We better have a comfy bed.” 

Keith didn’t answer. He glared at the aliens staring until they turned back around. 

In the next few minutes, Keith managed to get Lance to eat a little bit. He had eaten less than half of it when Rinoc shoved his way into the room and ordered them to follow him. Lance jumped up, leaving the tray on the table. Rolling his eyes, Keith took both their trays back up, and then fought his way through the aliens crowding the door. He made his way back down the hall to the newly opened room, stopping at the threshold to look inside. 

Zeta’s private rooms were small, hardly larger than the rooms onboard the Castle. The twins’ room had seemed more open simply because the fact that their bed hovered over the floor. This room… Well. Everything fit but Keith could only think that this wasn’t what he had expected. 

Rinoc stood just inside the room, arms crossed over his armored chest. Lance had bypassed the guard and the bed and other furniture to go straight across the room, where a window was cut into the wall. Unlike the one in the twins’ room that had shown only black space and far distant stars, the one in theirs had a view of a pair of suns. A couch had been placed below it, at just the right height for Lance to perch on it and stare out. 

Keith shot the guard a brief, confused look. “What is this?” he asked quietly. 

Since he didn’t clarify, Rinoc did nothing but stare at him, eyes just visible under his helmet. 

With a sigh, Keith strode into the room, walking around the bed to stand by Lance. “Hey,” he said. “Did you, uh… Did you notice - ?”

“The suns?” Lance said, cutting him off. He turned and gave Keith a brilliant smile. The light of the suns caught on his skin, made him look vibrant and colorful and Keith’s heart seized in his chest. It was a faint highlight against his skin, but it was enough to make him far more attractive than usual. “I know, right? It’s amazing.” 

“That… yeah, it’s cool.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking away from Lance. His eyes flicked behind them and he grimaced. “Not what I meant, though.” 

Lance leaned back from the window to follow Keith’s gaze. His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, looking back to Keith. A second later, his gaze had dropped to the floor, pink coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah. Oh.” 

Seriously, how had Lance even missed it? 

There was one bed in the goddamn room. A fairly decent sized one, but still. One bed, two of them. If it weren’t for those damn rumors, Keith would have guessed the universe had been laughing at him. As it was now, he figured whoever got the furniture for this room hadn’t gotten the news that they weren’t actually together. 

This was going to be awkward. 

Keith turned to look back at Rinoc. “Why do we have one bed?” he asked.

Rinoc tilted his head, paused, then shrugged. “Khattala placed the order. You’ll have to ask her.” 

“Khattala?” But she knew the truth. Why the hell - ? 

Lance groaned and when Keith looked back at him, he was lying on his back on the small couch, an arm over his eyes. “Fuckin’ ‘Tala,” he muttered. 

“She should be down soon,” Rinoc said. “You can ask her then.” 

Keith nodded, glancing around the small room again. A table was set against the wall off to one side of the bed, the empty surface of it shining. Clearly it was new and it had him looking at each piece of furniture in turn. The couch looked older but Lance hadn’t complained about it being uncomfortable yet, so maybe it wasn’t that bad. With slow steps, Keith made his way to the bed. It had no sheets, no pillows, and it didn’t look that bad. When he sat on it, he decided it was pretty good. Definitely better than the bunks, that was for sure. Probably not new, though. Guess being champions didn’t warrant all new furniture. 

By the time Khattala was walking through the door, Rinoc was leaning against the wall and Keith could hear Lance snoring lightly from the couch. Keith had been picking at the edge of the mattress and he looked up in time to see her set a chair down by the table. It too looked new, metal legs shining and a plush cushion seat that, at least from where he sat, looked unstained. 

“Boys,” she said loudly. “Welcome to your first day as champions.”

Over on the couch, Lance’s snores had cut off with a startled noise. He sat up and squinted across the room before jolting to his feet. “You!” he said. “You’re responsible for this!” He gestured at the bed with one hand then.

Khattala looked between both of them, the bed, then back at Lance. “Do you know how many times I’ve gone into the commons and you two are sharing a bed?” she said, brow raised. “I figured it’d be easier in the long run.” 

“What? Easier - I can’t sleep with Keith,” Lance said. 

Keith shot him a frown. “What’s wrong with me?” 

Lance was quiet for a second before mumbling, “You said not to.” 

Oh yeah. He had said that. 

Before he could respond, Khattala said, “At first I was going to get two smaller beds, but this way I don’t have to get rid of one when you guys decide to share again.” 

Keith could feel his face warming at that. It shouldn’t have made him blush. Wasn’t like he was the one who held onto Lance at night. 

“I’m only here because the chair was delivered late,” Khattala said. “We’re both going to be leaving soon, so if you want anything, now’s the time to ask me.” 

Both of them exchanged a confused glance, Lance shrugging at the question in Keith’s eyes. “What do you mean?” Keith asked, looking back at the guards. “If we want anything..?”

“Champions get one request,” Rinoc said. 

“I’ll do my best to get what you ask,” Khattala said. “Within reason, of course. Nothing too high tech, no weapons” -she shot Keith a pointed look- “and nothing that would threaten your position as slave here in Zeta.” 

That would be the third big difference. 

Keith was too surprised by the news to come up with anything. He sat there, blinking owlishly at Khattala and Rinoc, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that they could request something. 

At least Lance seemed to be thinking. “Do each of us get one?”

“No.” 

He hummed lowly and Keith glanced over, brow furrowing because Lance was staring at Keith with a determined look on his way. “Right,” he said, eyes catching Keith’s. He winked. “I got it. Get us good blankets.”

Keith’s confusion leveled out into exasperation. He recalled Lance complaining over their food and sighed. Of course that’s what he wanted. 

“Like, actual comfortable ones,” Lance was saying. “And pillows too! I want to have a good night’s rest, not be stuck in a shitty bed.” 

“I can do that,” Khattala said. “You’ll even get it by the end of the day, it’s that easy.” She sent them both a brief smile and then she was leaving, Rinoc following on her heels. 

The second the door shut behind her, Lance let out a brief whoop, falling onto the bed behind Keith. “Good blankets!” he said, grinning at Keith. “God, I can’t wait. I’m so tired of the crappy sheets on the bunks, you have no idea.” He stretched his arms over his head, locking his hands together and pulling. His eyes shut as he stretched out.

Keith tried not to look at the way his body pulled taut. “I can’t believe you used our one request on new bedsheets,” he said, eyes shooting to the window when Lance’s eyes opened again. 

Lance laughed. “You’ll thank me,” he said. “I didn’t even know we got a request like that. Kinda cool. I should ask the twins what they chose.”

“The twins?”

“Yeah. They were champions, like… twice or something like that.” 

Keith looked back, a smile crossing his face. Lance was yawning again, eyes screwed up. “Why didn’t I know this?”

Lance blinked at him, brow quirked. “Uh. I dunno. They told us. You were there - ohhh no, wait.” A smile popped into life and he laughed again, quiet. “That was when you were high.”

No wonder he didn’t remember this. All Keith managed to recall from that day was every unfortunate thing he’d said to Lance. The smile dropped from his face and he turned his attention away again with a huff. Not even a second later, he felt Lance’s weight drop onto his back, the other boy leaning against him. “Get off,” he said. 

“High Keith was kind of funny,” Lance said. His voice was much too close and Keith tensed. “High Keith wasn’t a dick. Liked hugs, wanted to cuddle, said some pretty adorable stuff.” 

“I’m going to throw you out the window,” Keith deadpanned. His face was heating up again just at the mention of how he’d acted. 

Lance’s weight lifted from him. “That’s cruel, man,” he said, voice light. 

Keith didn’t both to answer that. He stared vacantly out the window, leaning forward to rest his arms over his knees. From here, all he could see was the black of space and a thin shine of light at the top of the window. The room grew quiet, a strange thing after spending so many weeks in an open barracks. The noise of the aliens had become an ambient background sound, something that had become normal. 

Well - maybe not completely normal. It’d be hard for that kind of noise to overpower the quiet of living on his own in the desert  _ and _ the quiet of their Castle rooms. Maybe it’d become normal for life here in Zeta. And not having it was making his skin crawl. 

With a frown, Keith looked toward Lance again. If anyone could make noise out of nothing, it’d be Lance. He could get the guy talking about something and then fill the silence with pointless banter. Except his eyes landed on Lance, asleep once again, one arm still thrown carelessly over his head. That meant Keith was now alone in a silent room with only sleeping Lance for company. He lasted all of five seconds before leaving, aiming to find something else to occupy his time with. He opted for the lounge and card games, managing to win three of seven games they played. 

He skipped lunch, not really being hungry due to his late breakfast. 

Aliens continued to give him long looks before chatting with their friends, looks that Keith interpreted as sizing up the new champion. He started out glaring at them but eventually that faded into eye rolls and sighs. By dinner, he was starving and had given up on reacting outwardly at all to anyone looking at him. The attention was unwarranted and annoyed the hell out of him, but it was happening too often to bother with. 

He spent dinner with Lance and the twins, like usual. He learned what Lance had spent his day doing - sleeping for a couple hours, then exchanging ridiculous stories with Y’skai.. “That guy could write a book,” Lance said, “of all the crazy things he’s done. But we’ve got him beat, I think.” 

“Would you read it?” Keith asked. The twins were still in line for their food. 

Lance scoffed. “Maybe!” He paused. “Or he could write a TV show. I’d definitely watch it.” 

Keith spared him a smile. The conversation continued and, before too long, the twins were joining them. They recounted a few things Lance had already heard - slivers of Y’skai’s stories, but also what they had gotten for their champion request. 

It turned out that the twins had become champions twice so far, and each time, they were allowed one request. First was the large hammock that served as their bed - Lance seemed far too pleased that his choice was more or less the same as theirs - and the second was the painted stars on the ceiling of their room. The constellations they looked up at from their home had been painstakingly rendered above their bed. It was sweet, but bitter. Hearing it stung. 

Before he could stop himself, Keith asked, “How long have you two been here?”

A quick glance between the twins and then U’ilani answered. “A little over five decaphoebs.” 

A long time. Longer than Keith had been expecting. He looked at Lance to catch the other’s reaction, but Lance was looking at the twins instead, brow quirked, stabbing his food with a fork. “That’s a while,” he said slowly. 

Y’skai shrugged, one of his lower arms coming up to clap Lance on the back. “We adjusted,” he said simply. “Just as you are.” 

That remark hit Keith low in his gut, but he ignored it. He knew, without a doubt, that Shiro and the others were going to find them. They weren’t going to spend years here.

Lance, however… Something dark flickered in his eyes and he lowered his gaze to his tray. 

“Others have been here longer,” Y’skai added. 

“Slaves?” Keith asked. 

“Some, yes. Others are guards.” He lowered his voice, leaning over the table to Keith like he was telling a grave secret. “I’ve heard one of them has been here for thirty decaphoebs.” 

Keith tried to steer the conversation away after that news, push things toward safer waters. Give both him and Lance something to think about other than spending years trapped in the same three halls. It worked, to an extent. He managed to turn them all back to recounting stories by mentioning something he remembered from the Garrison - something small and stupid, an accident he’d witnessed when someone else was flying the simulator. It had Lance immediately starting in on why Keith could remember that of all things and not him, which had the twins asking him why he didn’t know anyone’s names at his school because they could still recall numerous faces and names, and then Keith was trying to explain to (apparently very social) aliens that he wasn’t big on social interaction. 

But it worked. By the time dinner was over, both of them were more relaxed. The day off had been a good break for Keith but he thought it was even better for Lance. The dark cloud that had been hanging over him had pulled back a bit. He took Keith by the hand at their room, pulling him past it to the twins’ instead. There, they wound down a few more hours just hanging out - talking, mostly. Y’skai had a pack of cards that he pulled out and, rather than learning another alien game, Lance insisted on teaching them human games instead. It was a fine idea, but Lance didn’t know the rules to something like blackjack so he ended up just teaching them how to play Go Fish of all things. 

When they returned to their own room, it was to find their bed made and waiting for them. 

One look at it and the air in the room turned awkward and uncomfortable. Keith sighed. The door had already been locked shut behind them, and even if they didn’t go to sleep right away, they had to face that bed at some point. He strode forward to sit on the edge. 

“Can’t believe we only get one bed,” Lance said as he passed. 

Keith didn’t speak until he was sitting down, pulling at the blanket with one hand. “You knew it was here,” he said. “Didn’t you hear Khattala this morning?”

“Well, yeah, but - “ He paused to make a face, run a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t meet Keith’s gaze. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

“I… I guess, yeah.” 

Except he’d already slept in the same bed as Lance. A much smaller bed. He had kind of gotten over the weirdness a long time ago. 

Waking up in Lance’s arms had been weirder. He felt heat building under his skin at the memory and frowned, staring at the floor. He could have handled that morning a little better, but he’d been tired and Lance had been warm and - 

Lance groaned and Keith’s eyes shot back up to him. “This is stupid,” Lance said, hands over his face. “I’m gonna kill Khattala for this.” 

“Is it really that bad?” 

Lance dropped his hands. His face was red. “I dunno, Keith! You tell me.” 

He took a moment to think, then shrugged. 

“Of course it is!” Lance said. He gestured at the bed wildly before pulling his eyes off Keith and starting around the bed. “She knows that whole rumor thing - you _ told me _ she said she knew and apologized. What’s her deal, doing this?” At the edge of the bed, he gave the whole thing a rotten look. “I’m ninety-percent sure this whole thing is a joke. Not, like, a Khattala joke - I don’t think she knows how to - but a universe wide joke. The cosmos itself is making fun of me and I’m dying, dude. It’s killing me.” 

Keith raised his eyebrows, watching Lance wander to the couch. “You’re rambling,” he said. 

“Am not.” Lance kicked the couch weakly and sighed. “Maybe I’ll just sleep on the couch.” 

“You’re not going to sleep on the couch.” 

“But isn’t it weird?” Lance turned his head to catch Keith’s gaze, then settled his eyes on the bed again. “I mean… You told me not to sleep in the same bed as you.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You did so.” 

“No, I did not.” He’d said something about Lance sleeping in his own bed, but since that no longer applied… “We’ve only got the one bed, Lance. Does it matter that much?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Lance faced the couch again, hands on his hips. “What if people see? I mean - I just - Wasn’t that you were upset by? Me making you share a bed.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, leaving Lance to talk to himself in quick, fractured sentences. After a few seconds, he stood, walking over to the wall by the door. A panel was set into the wall, two small buttons on it. Alien script labeled each one but Keith ignored that. He knew one opened the door, and the other - 

He slammed his hand down on it and the light overhead turned out immediately. 

Behind him, Lance made an undignified squawking noise and Keith smirked to himself. He turned as Lance called him and that smirk instantly melted into a smile. The suns in the window had lit Lance up, just as they had earlier. It was different in the dark, though, when the only light on Lance’s face was from the dual suns behind him. 

It was insanely attractive. 

Lance said, “What the hell was that?” 

Keith just stared at him, unable to pull the stupid smile off his face. It took Lance giving him a confused stare in return for Keith to snap back to reality.  _ Stop staring,  _ he told himself. “Uh, sorry. What?”

Lance huffed, crossing his arms. “Why are we in the dark, Keith?”

“Because we sleep in the dark.” 

“Who said we’re sleeping? I don’t even know where I’m sleeping!”

Keith walked back to the bed and wasted no time in lying back on it. His feet hung over the edge, boots pressing against the bed frame. He ran one hand along the blanket and said, “You can sleep here, you idiot.” 

“But - “

“Stop worrying about it.” 

“But - “ 

“Lance, seriously. Calm down and shut up.” 

“Will you let me finish a sentence?”

Keith turned his head, staring at Lance and waiting. 

With Keith’s attention on him, Lance grew nervous. He fidgeted, uncrossing his arms just to scratch at his neck. His eyes locked onto Keith’s, then on the ceiling, then the bed, then back to Keith. “It’s just… You really don’t mind it? Us sharing a bed?” 

In answer, Keith said, “The blankets are nice.” 

It was another few long, drawn-out seconds before Lance came to the bed, lying down next to Keith. It was big enough for each of them to lay on comfortably, but small enough that there wasn’t much room between them. Much better than the bunks, however, where they had been practically touching every time they laid down to sleep. 

Lance was stiff, nervous energy radiating off of him. Quietly, he said, “I’m still gonna get Khattala for this.” 

Keith gave a low noise in response. 

Silence for a few more seconds. Keith sat up to remove his boots before lying back again, waiting to get tired enough before he crawled beneath the sheets. 

Then Lance said, “Sorry if it’s awkward, by the way.” 

Keith sighed. “It’ll be fine,” he said, “if you just stop talking about it.” 

Lance grumbled, shifting on the bed. “Jeez, fine. Don’t gotta be rude about it.” 

“Lance.” 

“I know! I know. Stop talking, whatever.” Lance was pulling his own boots off now before falling next to Keith with a scoff. “I get it.” 

Keith glanced his way, enjoying the way the dim light shone on Lance’s face. 

✦✦✦✦✦

Keith had been right. It wasn’t awkward to share that bed with Lance. They had fallen asleep side by side and, upon waking, Keith had found Lance curled up beside him. Lance, snoring and holding tightly to the pillow that had been under his head. It was cute and Keith lay there, looking at Lance sleep and knowing he shouldn’t. It was weird, probably creepy, but the suns were still shining in through the window. Still the only light in the room. 

Usually, the lights were on when Keith awoke. So either he had woken up before anyone barged into the room or there was a way for the lights in the private rooms to be turned on without anyone entering. 

Either way, he was up before Lance and couldn’t stop himself from staring. He couldn’t drag his eyes away and only moved when he heard the door open. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, twisting toward the door to watch a guard lean in and press the button for the lights. 

Well. That answered that question. 

The day unraveled quick after that. The usual breakfast, hanging out in the lounge, waiting for either training or fights. It became evident really quickly that becoming champions had upset the natural ease of their schedule. It was hours before anyone came for them - a guard, motioning for both of them to follow for training - and Keith felt safe in assuming Avilus was working around the change. Finding a new balance for them. 

That thought only cemented as the day wore on. They weren’t called on to fight until late in the day, after lunch. During one of the last hours the arena was open. It wasn’t the first time they fought this late, but Keith couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this would become their new norm. If every fight could be this late, one of the last to happen. It made sense, on the level that saving a fight starring arena champions was a big showy battle that the audience could wait for, grow excited for, leave happy after witnessing it. 

Only, if that were the case, then the audience was disappointed tonight. They barely won, a victory pulled from under the feet of their opponents. The fight had been long, their opponents had fought hard and fast and they should have lost. It had to be sheer force of will alone that let them win.

And now, once more in front of Avilus, Keith ached. They had already changed out of the armor and Keith was tired, the loud ache of his muscles reminding him of bed. He wanted to sleep. He wanted Avilus to stop talking. He wanted the arena itself to just stop for a while. Let him rest before throwing another fight at him. 

Avilus was in the middle of his usual spiel, going over the mistakes they had made in the arena, attempting to beat it into their skulls. Keith, as per usual, stood with his arms crossed, a challenging glare focused on the alien before him. He didn’t let himself look at Lance, but a stubborn memory prodded at him: Lance, upset and downtrodden, believing hurtful words thrown his way. 

That was another reason Keith wanted out of here fast. When Avilus wasn’t happy, he yelled at Lance. And Keith didn’t want to see Lance wilting underneath that sharp angry voice again. 

Not when Lance had looked happier the day before. 

Avilus said, “Champions are supposed to do better.” He scowled at both of them, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “That was an embarrassment. I don’t care if we won - “

Keith had to bite down on his tongue to stop retorting. 

“ - you should have destroyed those two. They’re nothing close to your level. You should have been beating them into the floor within the first two minutes.” Avilus went on in that vein for a while, telling them how they should have fought, what they should have done, how easy the match should have been. 

It went on long enough that Keith, already standing on aching feet, rolled his eyes. “Are you done?’ he snapped. “We won. What’s the big deal?” 

Avilus trailed off into a stony silence, fixing Keith with the full force of his stare. Anger swam in his eyes. “I’m not done,” he said. “Do yourself a favor and be quiet.” 

“Oh, what are you gonna do? Hit me?” The answer was very likely yes. Keith didn’t care. 

Beside him, quietly, Lance whispered his name. 

Keith kept his eyes on Avilus, watching the alien take one slow step towards him, the another. Despite every sensible part of him telling him to back down, Keith let himself slide into a defensive stance. His arms fell to his sides, hands flexing. He was tired, he wanted to eat and relax, go to sleep wrapped up in his new warm blankets - 

Avilus raised a hand to him and he sidestepped, glare still searing through the alien’s skin. 

Then, unexpectedly, Lance spoke. His voice was loud, shrill almost. “Don’t hit him!” 

Both Avilus and Keith stopped, looking toward him. And as Keith’s eyes landed on him - his friend, his partner - his heart sank. Lance was staring at Avilus with wide, fearful eyes, shying back from them. He flinched when Avilus stepped back Keith, the fear in his eyes skyrocketing until his whole body was tense. 

Avilus said, “Excuse me?” His low voice carried across the room. Lance took a hurried step back. “I don’t remember asking your opinion.” 

“I - I just…” Lance paused, his terrified gaze flicking to Keith for one second. 

Keith wished he could say something or move or anything, but he was frozen there. 

Lance dropped his gaze back to Avilus. “Don’t hit him,” he said again. “I get it, I get it! I know. We barely won, we should do better. But - but you shouldn’t take it out on Keith. He’s just… he’s an angry guy, you know that.” Avilus turned from Keith to start toward him instead and Lance let out a panicked laugh. “Oh! Uh, I assumed that, didn’t I? Sorry! Keith’s just - please don’t hurt him. Please - Avilus - “ 

Keith moved forward, just a small step in Lance’s direction. Avilus was practically between them now. He couldn’t see much of Lance beyond the alien. 

At the same time, Avilus struck. He swung out with one hand, and though Keith couldn’t see the hit connect, he heard Lance’s pained cry and watched, stunned, as Lance toppled to the floor. He landed hard, bringing a hand to the side of his face, still staring up at Avilus. Keith sprang forward then, Lance’s name in his throat, only to be stopped by Avilus’s hand on his chest. Avilus glanced at him and Keith growled, “I’m going to kill you.” 

Avilus narrowed his eyes before looking down at Lance. “You should learn to watch your mouth,” he growled. “Your next owner may not be so kind as to let you keep your tongue.” 

For the second time, Keith froze. He stared at Avilus, gaze not moving even when Avilus pushed him back. What he’d just heard sunk in slowly as Avilus left the room. What was that? Was Avilus planning to mute Lance, or - ? 

He turned the first half of it over in his mind, a scowl twisting his mouth. “What a piece of shit,” he said quietly. 

The sounds of Lance standing drew his attention from the door. He snapped his gaze to Lance in a second, painfully aware of his heart clenching in his chest. Lance stood with his shoulders slumped forward, hand still holding the side of his face. His eyes were downcast, dark and mirroring the hurt carved into his face. 

Keith reached out for him, hesitant. “Lance…” 

Lance dropped his hand but turned his head away, not giving Keith a good look at the mark on his face. “I think I’m gonna go downstairs,” he said. “I’ll catch you later.” He started to walk away and Keith reached out, grasping his arm. Lance shot him a weak glare - a look that only made it more obvious how upset he was - and wrenched himself free. “Dude. Not now, okay?” Then he was gone, walking through the door without another look back. 

Keith stared after him, brows drawn tight, frown intense. He hadn’t felt this much in a long time, too much twisting inside his gut and weaving together. Anger at Avilus for doing this, at himself for not stopping it. A longing to go to Lance, comfort him, do something other than stand around uselessly - and, god, was he annoyed at himself for that. Three times in such a short amount of time, Keith had been unable to move to help Lance, his friend and partner, and that was ridiculous. 

On top of that, perhaps the worst thing curling in his chest, was his crush on Lance. It was stupid for it to make itself known now, but it was strong and seeped its way into everything else he felt. It had him leaving the room thinking of the hurt in Lance’s eyes and hating it. No one like Lance should look that sad. 

He made his way downstairs, passing the cafeteria where aliens were walking in for dinner. He headed for their room but when the door slid open, Lance wasn’t there. With a heavy sigh, Keith turned and went back to the cafeteria. He got his food in silence and took his usual seat by U’ilani. 

The twins’ exchanged a look. “Where is Lance?” she asked. 

Keith shrugged one shoulder. He had his head propped up in one elbow, looking down at his plate of food. It was the least appetizing thing he could have seen. “No idea. Avilus was, uh… rough today.” 

Another look between them. 

“Maybe he’ll show up,” Keith continued. He cut a piece of meat off with the edge of the fork and just stared at it for a few seconds. His mind was whirling with thoughts of Lance, wondering where he was, trying to dissect every word Avilus had said tonight to find out what exactly had upset him. A few things stood out: cruel accusations of Lance not really trying, mocking of his injuries, and that last sentence about cutting out his tongue. 

Lance never showed up for dinner. 

Keith left the cafeteria in silence, stopping by the door to his room and pausing. The twins walked past him, Y’skai patting him on the shoulder. Keith spared them a glance, then turned his gaze back to the door, staring at it like it had the answers he wanted.

If Lance wasn’t inside, then what was he supposed to do? Go look for him? Let him have space? If he was gone, a guard would likely escort him down before lights out so looking for him would be kind of a waste. On the other hand, if he was there, Keith had no idea what he’d do. Sure, he wanted to go to Lance and help him, but he had no idea how to do that. He had barely managed to cheer Lance up in the past, had only really succeeded in stumbling over his words until Lance found something there. 

He lingered just outside the sensor’s range for a few moments longer before swallowing hard, pushing past his own discomfort, and stepping forward. 

Lance was inside. 

He sat on the couch by the window, his back to Keith, not moving when the door opened. Keith stared at him, trying to find something to say, tracing the slope of Lance’s shoulders with his eyes. Neither of them spoke, the air in the room growing thicker with every second. Keith took a seat on the bed, as close to Lance as he could get without sitting next to him. A little over a foot of bare floor separated this side of the bed from the couch. A foot of space between Keith, leaning forward over his knees, and Lance, sitting with his entire body twisted to face the window. 

He should say something. 

“Are - are you alright?” 

Fuck, that was stupid. Of course he wasn’t alright. Keith rolled his eyes at himself and tried again. “I just mean… You weren’t at dinner. And Avilus was a huge dick tonight.”

“Isn’t he always?” Lance said. His voice was quiet, dull. Nothing like the usual loud exuberance. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “I guess he is.” He was floundering for words already, afraid to let the conversation die. If it did, then Lance may never tell him what was wrong and every inch of him wanted to know, to understand what was happening in Lance’s head. “Something’s bothering you.”

Lance made a small noise, shifting where he sat. “I’m fine,” he said. 

“You can talk to me,” Keith said. “I just… I want to know what’s wrong, Lance.” 

Seconds passed and the only thing that happened was Lance moving again, turning just so to bring his knees up to his chest. Keith watched him, fingers picking at the knees of his pants. His heart was pounding, nerves coating his insides. 

Then, finally, Lance started talking. “Avilus wants to sell me.” 

Keith’s blood ran cold, chest aching. “What?” 

“You heard him. ‘New owner.’ So I’ve either already got a new one or he’s getting ready to sell me back.” He turned his head to look at Keith. “How long do you think I have before he’s kicking me out of here? Personally, I think maybe, like - “ His face screwed up and he twisted back around to the window. “I think it’ll be soon. Just a few days and then…” He raised one hand to gesture wildly. “Bam. I’m gone.” 

Clearly, Keith had been focusing on the wrong thing. He had gotten caught up on Avilus threatening to mute Lance that he forgot the whole ‘new owner’ mention. 

“That’s… that’s not going to happen.” 

Lance pushed his hand through his hair. He made a small noise that had Keith’s chest aching even more. It sounded like a laugh strangled in his throat. “He’s said it before. A few times.” 

“Said what? That he’s going to sell you?”

“That I’m not good enough.” His voice was quiet and Keith leaned forward to catch every word. “That you deserve someone whose better. That if I can’t stop fucking up, then there’s no need for me here. And - yeah. Yeah. He said he’s gonna sell me back.” 

Keith’s heart was pounding against his ribs, his hands clenched into fists over his knees. There was no way in hell Avilus was going to do this. 

“And I - I’ve been trying! I - I just - I’m trying so hard, right? And I don’t know how he keeps finding shit to blame on me, but he does. Every time something goes wrong, it’s my fault and then he’s yelling at me and - and…” Lance trailed off with a shuddering breath. “And he keeps hitting me, and I… I don’t know, man.” 

Every nerve in Keith’s body was screaming, pushing at him to do something. To move, to hug Lance, hold him, comfort him.

“I don’t want to be sold again. I don’t want to be separated.” 

But Keith couldn’t even bring himself to say anything, let alone move. 

“I don’t want to lose you, and - “ He paused, choking down something that sounded far too much like a sob. “Sorry. That, uh… that sounded weird, didn’t it?” Lance turned again, looking his way but not meeting Keith’s gaze. “I just… If I get sold, then I’m never gonna see you or Voltron or Earth.” He was gesturing again as he spoke, sweeps of his hand to the window and himself, over the room. “I’m gonna die out here alone, by myself.” He dropped his hand down again, circling his arms around his knees. 

“You’re not going to be sold,” Keith said. 

Lance’s eyes flicked to his then. The light of the suns caught in them, shining off unshed tears. 

Keith swore something in him broke. Tension he’d been holding in his shoulders snapped. For a moment he stared, alarmed. This was bad - he had no idea how to handle anyone crying, but if it was Lance, that was even worse. 

“You said that before,” Lance was saying. “Told me we were a team.” 

“It’s still true.” 

“You can fight with anyone,” Lance said. “I’m just - I’m weighing you down and I know I am - “ 

“No, you’re not. You really aren’t.” 

Lance just dropped his gaze, squeezing himself tighter. 

“And - And even if you did get sold,” Keith said, barely over a whisper, “I’d come find you.” 

Lance shot him a skeptical look. “Why?” 

“Because we’re sticking together.” 

“Oh please.” He turned back to the window, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes. So far as Keith could see, none of the tears had fallen, but maybe he’d missed it. When he spoke again, Lance’s voice was thick, clouded with sadness. “Once I’m gone, you won’t even miss me. You’ll get some new better partner, and then Voltron can get you and find another Paladin and then everything will work itself out. And I-I’ll just - I’ll just be out there.” He knocked his hand against the window twice. “No one’ll even bother looking for me.” 

“That’s not true.” 

Lance didn’t answer. 

Keith took a breath, trying to force himself to move. All he managed was sliding one foot along the floor. “Voltron will find you,” he said, keeping his voice clear, strong. “I’ll find you.” 

At that, Lance looked to him again. “You sure about that?” he said. “I know I’m annoying, and you guys could do so much better with someone else.” 

“We wouldn’t want someone else.” He was positive. “You’re a part of the team, Lance.” 

Lance sniffed, wiping at his eyes again. Probably trying to keep himself from crying. 

“Besides,” Keith added. “I already found you once. You really think I wouldn’t do it again?” 

“But I got us stuck here,” Lance said. “It’s my fault we’re here now and - and I know you don’t - “ He looked at Keith again, sitting up straighter to motion toward him. “You can’t just sit there and act like you’re okay with that! You going after me got you stuck here with me! You could be out there still, d-doing cool stuff or whatever. You ...you shouldn’t be here.” He blinked several times, slumping back into the couch, into himself. “I-I’m sorry. I got us stuck, a-and I’m sorry, Keith. I - I know you’re mad at me for it. I’m sorry.” 

Keith wrenched himself to his feet. “I’m not mad at you,” he said. “And I don’t blame you.” 

Lance laughed, a short and dry sound that cut itself off with a choking sob. Tears started to trail down his cheeks, slow and few - but they were there. “You don’t have to lie,” he said. “I know how you feel and it’s fine. I kinda hate me for this too.” 

“I - I don’t hate you,” Keith said, taking a step forward. “I couldn’t - “

Strangely, it seemed Keith’s words only made him angry. The look on Lance’s face snapped to anger in a split second. “Yes,” he said, “Yes, you do.” 

“Lance - “

“Don’t lie to me!” Lance stood from the couch to stare Keith down, the glare he wore ruined by the tears on his face and his shoulders shaking. “You told me - You said y-you wished you never - “ He paused, raised his arm to scrub at his face. His next breath was deep, a barely contained sob. “You didn’t want to come for me,” he said, lowering his arm. He wasn’t looking at Keith anymore, eyes on the floor. “You said you should’ve left me, and - “

Keith stared at him until things fell into place. They had been arguing, he’d just gotten his blade back and then lost it that same day - and, like always, he’d taken his frustrations out on Lance. And he’d never bothered to apologize, had forgotten he’d ever said anything that hurtful. He swallowed hard and reached for Lance, setting his hands on the other boy’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said, quiet. “I never meant it. I was angry.”

“You’re always angry.” 

“I know.” He paused, feeling Lance shaking with each breath he took, and then slid his hands down Lance’s arms. “I… I really am sorry. You know, I disobeyed Shiro to go after you.” He had his hands tight around Lance’s wrists. “He - I think he wanted everyone to group up first? I can’t remember. But I know I left without them. Because I knew I could get to you, I could help you.” 

Lance was crying, inches in front of him, face screwed up as he fought tears back and failed. He whispered Keith’s name on a strangled breath. 

Keith stepped back to the bed, tugging Lance with him. “I wanted to find you,” he said, making Lance sit down. He released the other boy to sit beside him and immediately Lance was wiping at his face. “I will always want to find you. Even if Avilus tries to get rid of you, I’ll find you. I’ll break out of here if I have to, steal someone’s ship or something - “

Lance laughed. Actually laughed, though it was quickly drowned by a sharp breath, more tears. 

“ - but I will come find you.” 

He fell silent then, watching Lance closely, his heart trying to rip itself from his chest. He had no idea if he’d helped any, but he hoped he did. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, how long he could sit there while Lance cried. 

For a few seconds, the only sound was Lance’s stuttered cries. Then, quietly, he said, “Do - do you really care that much about the knife?” His eyes flicked back to Keith, red and watery. 

Keith frowned. “What are you talking about?” 

“You acted like - like that knife of yours was so special,” Lance said. He stopped to take a deep breath, blinking away tears in his eyes. When he spoke again, he seemed calmer, eyes more steady when he refocused on Keith. “I know it’s a special blade, but - but it was like the knife was more important.” His eyes dropped again and he added, “Like you cared more about having it than you did about - about me.” 

Shit. 

Keith had really fucked up if he gave that impression. He sighed, mostly at himself, and laid his hand on Lance’s shoulder again. It was true that his blade was important. He’d had it his entire life, carried it with him from home to home and then into space. This was probably the longest time he’d gone without it being attached to his person. “It’s a knife,” he said quietly. “A special one, but… It’s still just a knife. I mean, it would suck if I lost it, but… I’m pretty sure I could get another one.” 

Another one wouldn’t have the same meaning attached to it, wouldn’t connect to his missing mom. He hoped he never lost it.

He looked at Lance, at how the other - his friend, the only person he had with him - was still trying to hold back more tears. Then he wrenched his eyes to the ceiling and forced out something that had his face coloring. “If I lost you, I - I’m not sure what I’d do. You’re worth way more than a knife, Lance.” He looked back down and found Lance staring at him with wide eyes, tears welling up again. Keith’s eyes widened in return and he pulled his hand back. “I - Uh - “ 

Lance sniffled. 

Keith blinked. 

The next second, Lance was moving toward him. Before Keith could react, Lance was twisting his arms around Keith’s waist, hands sliding up his back to cling to his shirt tightly. His head rested on Keith’s shoulder and then he was shaking again, crying against him - sharp, choked gasps for breath and trembling shoulders. Keith was baffled, entirely lost on how this happened. Slowly, he raised his arms to encircle Lance, resting his hands lightly against the other’s back. He stared at the wall opposite him, arms tightening the longer Lance clung to him. 

He had no idea how long they sat there, but it was long enough for Lance to pull himself closer, long enough for his breathing to slow, for the tears to stop. He still shook with each breath, hadn’t relaxed his hold on Keith a bit, but it was something. Keith didn’t move, didn’t let him go. Just rested his head against Lance’s and held him tight. His chest still ached for the boy in his arms. 

Eventually, the door to their room slid open. Lance stiffened immediately and Keith raised his head just enough to lock eyes with the guard. “It’s alright,” he whispered, running a hand down Lance’s back. “Just Khattala.” 

Lance sniffled again, shifting against him.

The alien in question stared at the two of them with raised brows before reaching in to turn off the lights. She stood in the doorway for a second longer, yellow eyes burning a question into Keith’s head. He could almost hear her saying it:  _ Is he alright? _

Keith nodded once. He watched her step back from the door, watched it shut on her gaze. 

In the dim light of the suns, Lance was pulling away from him. Keith let him go, loosening his arms so that Lance could sit up straight. Quietly, he asked, “You okay?” 

Lance nodded, wiping at his face as he did. “Yeah.” His voice was quiet, wrecked from the cries that had forced their way out of him. “Just - Just thought we should get ready for bed.” He wouldn’t meet Keith’s gaze. 

Keith stood without another word, walking around the bed to his own side. He kicked his boots off and yanked the covers back, then paused, eyeing Lance. Like him, Lance had removed his boots but now he just sat there, picking at the edge of a blanket, glancing at him and away again. Keith lowered himself to the bed slowly, sitting up with the blankets over his legs. He kept his gaze on Lance, waiting. 

And then, finally, Lance took a deep breath. “I, uh… I’m sorry. For dropping all this on you, I mean.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Lance shot him another quick look, dropping his eyes to the bed. “I know you don’t do well with this kind of thing,” he said. “I was… kinda hoping you’d never have to see me like this.” 

Keith was leaning towards him without noticing, slipping a hand over the sheets in an effort to reach him. “What do you mean?” 

It was another few seconds before Lance spoke again. “I thought, if I could keep everything inside, then you wouldn’t be affected by this place. Like… like if I could show you that I was still okay, you would be too.” He raised his eyes to Keith’s, staring at him from beneath his lashes. There was an unspoken plea there for Keith to understand him, to forgive him. “I didn’t want you to be upset.” 

Keith frowned, brow furrowing. “You kept all this inside?” he said. 

Lance nodded, averting his gaze again. “I know it’s stupid.” 

Keith didn’t respond to that. He hesitated, then scooted closer, reached over to pull Lance’s hand from the blanket and squeeze it in his own. “Next time,” he said, “just tell me when you’re upset.” He wasn’t the greatest at helping, but if he had to see Lance like this again, Keith would actually hunt Avilus down and kill him. 

Lance was staring down at their hands. “So… embarrassing question here, but…” He trailed off, lifting his eyes to Keith’s again. “Can I, uh… I mean, do you mind if I…?” His cheeks flushed and he raised his other hand to gesture vaguely at Keith. “Y’know…” 

“No. I don’t know.” 

“Ah, man…” Lance made a face, looking away from him. “You gonna make me say this?”

“Say what?” 

“I want,” Lance said, each word slow, like he was pushing it out, “to know if… if you’ll, uh…” 

Keith would do whatever he asked right now. He was a little embarrassed at that thought, but it was true. He squeezed Lance’s hand again, trying to encourage him. 

The flush on Lance’s face was strong, color heightened by the light splayed across his face. “I want you to hold me again,” he said in a rush. After a silent beat, he added, “Please.” 

That… was surprising. Keith felt himself blush. He blinked, once, twice, and let out a slow breath. “Uh. Y-Yeah. Okay.” 

Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad. 

He could hold Lance. No problem. None whatsoever. 

At his agreement, Lance had slipped under the covers beside him. He drew close and then, incredibly slowly, eased an arm around Keith’s middle. They were still sitting, Lance staring at him, the color on his face rivaling the heat Keith felt in his own skin. “I know it’s weird.” Lance’s voice was a whisper. “I just… It was nice. Before.” His eyes had dropped from Keith’s own, flickering over his face before dropping between them. 

Keith was going to explode, he was positive. He hadn’t recovered yet from seeing Lance breaking down before him and now Lance was far too close. He wanted to shove him away, put distance between them. Instead, he forced himself to lay down and then laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll live.” 

Lance’s eyes shot back up to his, the lightest smile pulling at his lips. He didn’t say anything as he laid down, stretching himself out. He was impossibly close, practically on top of Keith - and Keith’s heart was beating an insane rhythm against his ribs. Lance curled in closer to him, pushing a leg between Keith’s, lying his head on Keith’s shoulder. It was a few moments longer before Keith remembered what Lance had asked of him and then he had his arms around Lance. 

Lance said, “You’re stiff,” and Keith tried to pretend he couldn’t feel the other’s breath against his neck. “You know you don’t have to.” 

“Give me a bit, okay?” His voice was tight. 

Lance hummed, the noise nearly vibrating through his skin. 

Keith let out a shaky breath, sure he was going to lose it. There was no goddamn way he’d be able to stand this - but Lance was warm and solid, had asked him for this, said it was nice. And he had been crying, had been more upset than Keith had even seen him. 

He’d needed someone and if Keith could help him with that, he could damn well hold him at night too. 

It took another minute at least to relax himself. The whole time, Lance ran a finger over his side, up and down in a repetitive pattern. It only stopped when Keith moved, turning himself just slightly toward Lance. His arms tightened around the other, pulling him in closer until Lance was lying half on top of him. It was strange and Keith still flushed, his heart still pushed at his chest too hard, but he could feel Lance sigh. 

Lance whispered a thanks against his neck and Keith’s heart surged. He squeezed Lance tighter, paused, and then ran a hand down Lance’s back like he’d done earlier. He didn’t know if it was something Lance liked, if he should even be doing it, but Lance wasn’t objecting. Lance merely tucked his head in closer as Keith kept it up, silently tracing a line down Lance’s back until his breathing slowed, until Keith was sure he’d fallen asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chpt:  
> -lance has a crisis
> 
> i'm not kidding thats like all i've got for you guys.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's mostly a keith crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo have you guys had this new orange vanilla coke yet its amazing
> 
> a secondary summary would just be  
> Lance's super gay week. ...even though its 8 days
> 
> \-- btw, this chapter is uhh more lighthearted than the others? i suppose that's a way to describe it.   
> a distinct lack of angst and serious arena-related events ahead.

The lights turning on woke him.

That, and a guard ordering them to get up in far too loud a voice.

Lance snapped awake instantly, opening his eyes to squint in the light. A second later, he had shut them again, sinking back into the warmth around him. He knew what it was. It was hard to forget that he’d fallen asleep curled up with Keith, had willingly and consciously snuggled up to the guy for comfort. And he knew that the weight around his waist was Keith’s arm, that the slow rising of the chest he was pressed against meant Keith was still asleep. That was fine with him. Not like he was in any rush to get up.

He was falling back asleep within seconds, head pillowed on Keith’s arm. He was so close that every breath he took came with smells of laundry, the plain soap the arena handed out, and something undeniably Keith.

This was nice. He’d forgotten how relaxing it was to lay in someone’s arms like this.

Of course it was over pretty quick.

He heard the door sliding open again seconds before a guard barked at them. “Hey! I was serious! Get up. Now.”

Lance whined. He felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath as Keith awoke. With a frown, Lance pushed himself up on his elbows to lock eyes with the guard. Rinoc again.

“Breakfast in fifteen,” Rinoc said. “Then you two have training. Get up.” He slapped the wall with one hand before continuing on, door shutting as he left again.

Honestly, Lance felt like he could have slept through breakfast. Except that when he looked from the door to the bed, he met Keith’s tired eyes staring back at him. The other boy’s arm was still hanging loosely over his waist and Lance was more aware of that than ever. Something about Keith’s dark eyes watching him made this feel way more intimate than it had moments before.

Lance jolted back a few inches, letting Keith’s arm fall from him. He watched as Keith yawned, raising his hand to rub at his eyes.

Then Keith was sitting up with a stretch. His tired gaze was still locked on Lance. “Hey,” he said, voice low and rough. Still half asleep. “You good?”

Lance blinked.

He meant the whole thing where Lance had cried his eyes out all over him and spewed all his insecurities like some kind of child. Lance knew that. He also knew that he was not at all keen on talking about that right now. So instead of answering, he let his face fall into a flirtatious smirk, tilting his head back toward Keith. “Was it good for you?” he purred, winking.

Keith just stared, brow furrowing. He said. “What…?”

Lance sighed, smirk falling away. “Nothing, man,” he said, already moving to get off the bed. “I’m fine. Now get up, let’s go. They’re gonna serve breakfast soon and I wanna grab a shower before that happens.”

Figures Keith wouldn’t catch obvious flirting.

Not that Lance was flirting.

The rest of the day passed quickly. It was the same old thing - eat, train, eat again, kill time in the lounge, fight, eat, bed. Only a few things stood out. The first was that there was a huge ugly bruise covering part of his face. It had turned almost purple overnight, sickly greens mixed in along the edges. The damn thing went from his cheekbone to his jawline and Lance hated it. And everyone seemed to want to comment on it or look at it, everyone clearly wondering who he’d pissed off, where he’d gotten it. It was annoying.

The next big thing happened before breakfast where, freshly showered and changed into clean clothes, Lance was pulled into a tight bear hug by Y’skai. He hadn’t even made it to the table before the massive alien had sprang out of nowhere, hugging him from behind. Now he was lifted several inches off the floor, staring wide-eyed at Keith.

Y’skai ranted about how good it was that Lance was alright, how when he didn’t show up for dinner it was worrying. It was a nice thing to say but in that moment, Lance was concerned for his bones - and really hungry.

He spent the rest of breakfast dodging questions about where he’d been and what had happened to him. He’d already spilled everything once, he wasn’t about to do it again. Y’skai’s words stuck with him through the day, though. Hearing that these aliens he barely knew had worried about him sent a pleasant hum through his skin - but also a small wave of guilt. He’d made people worry because he couldn’t keep himself together long enough to sit through dinner.

That was another thing that made this particular day feel different. Despite crying the night before, despite the reassurances from Keith, despite the comfort and the warmth and safety of someone’s arms around him -

Despite all of it, Lance still felt worn down. Like something was hanging over him the whole day.

It was exhausting. It’d been hard enough keeping up a cheerful facade before he’d let out his insecurities but now… Well, he’d kind of been hoping it’d be easier to face the arena once it was all out in the open. But he went into the fight with trepidation weedling in his spine.

At least they won, and pretty easily too. A quick win like that didn’t leave much for Avilus to yell at him for, which was always good.

By the time he laid down for the night, Lance was aware of one huge thing that had made the day different from any other. It was the biggest one, the weirdest one, and it had him staring at Keith skeptically while the other boy got into bed.

See, Keith was usually grumpy at best, angry and rude at his worst, and more than half their interactions were full of insults. Yet all day, Keith had been nothing but nice to him. Polite smiles and kind eyes. Not once did he rise to Lance’s bait and start an argument.

Even now, with Lance staring into his skull, Keith just raised one eyebrow. “What?” he asked.

“You know what,” Lance said.

“I - I really don’t.”

Lance scoffed.

Keith tilted his head, dark bangs falling into his eyes. “Uh… Okay.” He laid back on the bed but almost immediately pushed himself back up on his elbows. “Hey, Lance. Look, I was just wondering… Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’ve been kind of quiet all day, so - “

“I’m fine,” Lance said. He turned away from Keith, shoulders tensing, and laid down. Stupid Keith. Wasn’t he supposed to be bad about reading people?

After a few seconds of silence, Keith said, “You know it’s okay if you’re not.”

“Sorry, too tired,” Lance said loudly. He stared out the window at the stars. “Can’t hear you.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“What was that?”

“Lance.”

He pulled a loud, fake yawn. “Sorry, buddy. Maybe tomorrow.”

Keith muttered a low curse under his breath, then something that sounded curiously like an insult.

Lance smiled to himself. That was more like Keith. Moments later, a real yawn ripped out of him, born from the fake one.

It was too bad the next day didn’t improve. Lance felt better overall, less like he wanted to lay down and sleep the rest of his life away and more like himself - but Keith was still acting different. At breakfast, when Lance insulted his stupid haircut and flicked a piece of meat at him, Keith just rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t act childish, Lance.”

Really? Not even an insult?

And so it went, for the whole day. Lance purposely tried to bait Keith into snapping at him, and every time, Keith either said nothing or brushed it off. Once, his eye twitched and a snarl started to curl his lip but he didn’t say anything. It was incredibly disappointing.

After lunch, their training ended and they sat in the lounge, alien cards spread over the table. Keith was in the middle of setting up for another alien game, dealing out four hands - the twins were going to join them soon - and didn’t look up when Lance threw another insult at him. A frown crossed his face momentarily, but then Lance smirked. He nudged Keith under the table, kicking at his shin.

Keith looked up with his brows raised.

Lance said, “You holding back on me or somethin’, Mullet boy?”

Keith didn’t break eye contact. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

Lance kicked him again.

Almost immediately, Keith had Lance’s ankle locked between his own feet. “Stop that,” he said, looking down at the cards. “You’re distracting me.”

“From dealing cards?”

“This is a precise game,” he said. “If I mess up, I might as well do it all over.”

“If?” Lance asked. He was snatching every opportunity to insult his friend. “Don’t you mean ‘when’?”

Keith’s eye was twitching again. He slammed the next card down before Lance with way too much force.

Lance set his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table. He pouted, staring Keith down. If insults weren’t provoking a reaction, then what else could he do? Keith usually snapped so easily at him. That’s what made it fun to argue with him, tease him, goad him into stupid contests. He watched as Keith finished dealing cards and started shuffling the deck, thinking of all the times he’d made the other guy angry in the past.

Keith was setting the deck in the center of the table when it hit him.

The easiest way to get some kind of reaction other than indifference or odd politeness.

A grin flashed to life and he forced it down into a smirk, schooled his face into the most attractive and seductive look he had. It was a good look, capable of getting anyone’s attention. This was going to be great. The only other thing that regularly made Keith annoyed with him was Lance’s flirtatious tendencies after all.

He leaned over the table to get closer to Keith and, at the same time, reached out and took Keith’s hands in his own.

Keith blinked, raising his head to look at him. One look at Lance and Keith was recoiling back, confusion lining his face. “What are you doing?”

Lance dropped his voice, keeping it low and leaning even closer. “Hey, Keith. I don’t think I ever got to thank you for helping me out.”

“But… you did?” Keith still looked entirely confused. “You literally said ‘thanks’.”

Of course he was confused. Keith could miss the most obvious signs that someone was flirting with him. “Oh, I don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean a real apology. Something I’d only give to someone… special.”

Keith screwed his face up, tilting his head - he did that so much and it was way too cute for him. “Uh. Okay…?”

Lance widened his smirk into a nigh-predatory grin. “You don’t know what I mean, do you?” He didn’t wait for Keith to answer before he continued. “Want me to put it plainly? Okay. I want to repay you, Keith. Say… with a kiss?”

Immediately, Keith flushed pink.

“Or maybe,” Lance added, “you’d like something more?” He raised one hand, Keith’s hand still clasped in his own, to his lips. He kissed Keith’s knuckles with a wink.

Keith’s face was bright red. “Wh-What the fuck?” he asked, voice weak and strangled.

Lance grinned. That should totally get some anger, maybe snap Keith back to normal. But all that happened was Keith swallowing hard - Lance tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple - and, under the table, Keith’s legs tightening around the ankle trapped between them. That was strange. Not entirely disappointing, but… strange.

Movement nearby drew his attention from Keith and Lance looked up. His grip loosened on Keith’s hands and the other boy pulled away from him instantly. The twins were taking their seats, one to either side of Lance.

Y’skai looked between the two of them. “What did you do to him?” he asked Lance.

Across the table, Keith had a hand over his eyes, the other curled into a tight fist on top of his cards.

Lance shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Nothing, really.”

They didn’t ask any more questions. Rather, they set into teaching Lance a game that Keith already knew. Over the course of the first game, Keith calmed down to the point where it was like nothing had happened. Other than the fact that he wouldn’t look Lance in the eye for longer than a second, anyway.

✦✦✦✦✦

Their fight that night was against a pair of skinny aliens that squirmed between the rocks. Each one was armed with spears, the tips of which glowed a sickly green. Easy for Lance to deal with as high up as he was - harder for Keith, down on the ground. Lance tracked whichever one Keith engaged, wary of whatever made those spear tips glow. Whenever the alien would try to stab Keith, Lance fired.

It was annoying, though, because each time he fired, the alien would manage to twist its body in a way to avoid the shot. After the third time it happened, Lance grew frustrated and changed his shots to land at the alien’s feet or sent them pinging off the spear - shooting the spear kept it off Keith, and shooting the alien’s feet kept it moving. Made it easier for Keith to fight them.

It took a while, but they won. Keith did most of the work, though. Lance’s guns didn’t do much work with aliens that could dodge bullets.

Which was totally unfair. Bullets were way too fast to dodge like that, it wasn’t cool! He said as much to Keith as they were exiting the arena, and again while they were changing out of the armor.

He expected Keith to tell him to shut up, but all that happened was Keith humming an agreement.

Lance sighed heavily, dropping his chest piece to the floor before turning to Keith. The flightsuit hung off his shoulders, pale skin a stark contrast to the black fabric. Keith tugged it down, Lance’s eyes narrowing with every inch of exposed flesh. “You could at least say something,” he grumbled, gaze locked on Keith’s lower back.

Keith glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t stare at me changing,” he said.

Lance jerked back, scowling. “I - I’m not! Why would I!?”

Keith shrugged. “You tell me.”

Lance glared at him, gaze lingering on Keith’s shoulders for a few seconds before he spun back around. They finished changing in silence. Then, with nothing left to do but wait for Avilus to show, Lance fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt. He hated this. The waiting was almost as bad as anything Avilus had to say. He glanced over at Keith, found the other looking back at him, and averted his gaze instantly.

“It’ll be fine,” Keith said. “We won this time.”

“Yeah…” Too bad Lance hadn’t done anything. Avilus was sure to use that against him.

And he did. Avilus hadn’t been in the room for a minute before he was turning on Lance, loathing in his eyes. “How is it,” he said, “that even when you two win, you disappoint me?”

Lance sighed, letting his eyes drop once again to the floor. That feeling that something was dragging him down had lessened a lot since he’d cried, but one comment from Avilus had it creeping back in.

“The only reason you won that fight is because Keith actually knows what he’s doing,” Avilus said. “I don’t think you ever landed a shot tonight. It was pathetic. Remind me, boy, why I paid for both of you.”

Without looking up, Lance said, “Because we’re a team.”

“You’re _supposed_ to be a team,” Avilus corrected. “But you still seem to have trouble with that. Either you’re making poor decisions in an attempt to help Keith, or you’re letting him do all the work for you. Do you not know how to make yourself useful?” Avilus scoffed. “You’re nothing but a disappointment. Why do you think I want to find Keith a new partner? Someone better suited for him than you.”

Right. This again. It came up so often now there was no way Avilus wasn’t preparing to get rid of him. Lance crossed his arms, squeezing himself. He was going to be sold. How had he ever managed to forget it? It didn’t matter what he did, he always messed something up and Avilus was never happy with him, and why would anyone keep a slave they weren’t happy with? He was going to be sold again, probably for something worse than fighting, and he’d have to give up any hope of seeing his friends again because no matter what Keith said, there was no way the guy could follow Lance after it happened. He’d be alone and he’d die out here and -

“I don’t want another partner.”

Lance’s spiraling thoughts roared to a halt. He cast a look at Keith, not surprised by the fury in his face as he stared down Avilus. Like himself, Keith’s arms were crossed - but the stance looked natural on him, more challenging than cowering.

Avilus had turned his beady eyes to Keith. “What?”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Keith said. His voice was hard, a scowl twisting his mouth. “I won’t fight with anyone else. You take Lance away from me, and I’m done.”

To Lance’s surprise, Avilus barked a laugh. He raised one large hand and slapped it on Keith’s shoulder. “You can’t say things like that,” he said. “You’ll fight with whoever I tell you too.”

Keith didn’t move, didn’t flinch. “No. I won’t. Lance is my partner and I’m sick of you saying you’re getting rid of him.”

“You,” Avilus said, “are a slave.” All traces of amusement were gone, replaced by a low dangerous timbre. “You are not allowed to talk to me like that.”

“I don’t care,” Keith said. “I’m not just going to stand here and let you say this shit anymore.”

Lance tried to get his mouth to work, to say something to stop him before Keith angered Avilus even more. His whole body seemed to have frozen, though. He couldn’t even bring himself to move.

Avilus’s lip curled. “Boy,” he said. “You should stop talking now.”

“I’ll stop when you understand me,” Keith said. “Maybe when it gets through that thick skull of yours that I will refuse to work with anyone else you put beside me. And if you even think about taking him out of here - “

“I will do what I want with my property,” Avilus said, voice rising over Keith’s.

“ - I won’t fight again.” Keith continued in the same steady voice, ignoring every word Avilus said. “I’ll throw every match until you’ve lost all the money you spent on us. I’ll make it so no one takes you seriously ever again, and it’ll all be your fault.”

Silence hung in the air for a few short seconds.

Then Avilus humphed low in his throat, raised his hand, and smacked Keith hard in the back of the head. “You’re an insubordinate pest,” he growled. “Get the hell out of my sight before I kill you both.”

That was odd. Anytime Lance spoke up or made a mistake, Avilus would beat him senseless. There had to be something else coming.

But all that happened was Keith snagging his wrist and yanking him along, pulling him from where he’d frozen. He dragged Lance past Avilus and out the door before releasing him. Lance walked beside him, throwing glances back at the training room until the stairwell was before them. Then he looked back to Keith, watched the other boy rub at the back of his head with a frown.

Three steps down, Lance spoke. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly. Before him, Keith stopped and looked back at him. Lance held his gaze for two seconds before those stupid dark eyes became too much. He stared past Keith instead, at the blank wall of the stairwell. “You shouldn’t have talked like that to him. Avilus, he - he’s gonna hurt you, man.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Keith said, “but I wanted to.”

Lance glanced back at him at the same time Keith dropped his gaze.

“What he was saying… That’s one of the things you were upset about,” Keith said.

Lance’s heart tripped over itself.

“I just wanted him to stop talking.” Keith shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to listen to that kind of bullshit. Especially not from that asshole.” He raised his eyes to Lance and then sighed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Huh?” He knew exactly what Keith was talking about. The smile he wore was probably too big, too bright, too goofy - something like that. But Keith had remembered what Lance was upset about and then he angered a massive alien to make him shut up. It was nice, someone like Keith caring about something that felt so stupid to him. “No idea what you mean.”

Keith took another step down, rolling his eyes.

Lance waited for a comment. The typical thing would probably just be a ‘whatever’ tossed his way, but Keith was silent - and just like that, Lance remembered how odd Keith was lately. He paused, then called out, “Hey, Keith?”

Now four steps below him, almost at the half-floor landing, Keith looked his way. “What?”

“I’m gonna hug you.”

Immediately, Keith’s face screwed up into a frown. “That’s... That’s not really - “ He stopped, eyes widening, as Lance threw himself down the steps towards him. “Lance! Seriously, it’s not necessary.” He hurried down the steps, turning to continue down.

Lance caught him before he made it to the next set of stairs. “C’mon, Keith,” he said, wrapping his arms around Keith from behind.

Keith tensed in his grip. “Why,” he said, “are you doing this?”

Lance squeezed him tight. “Wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“What? Then why a hug?”

“ ‘Cause this way you can’t just run away and avoid answering,” Lance said. “Duh.”

He felt Keith’s sigh. Felt it as his muscles relaxed, as he leaned back into Lance. “Fine. What question?”

Lance bit his lip for a second. His arms loosened around Keith, one hand lying flat on the other boy’s stomach, the other sliding over to rest on his hip. “You’re not acting like yourself,” Lance said. “Like, you’re not arguing or insulting me like you usually do. So, y’know… What’s up with you?”

Keith was quiet, squirming against Lance before he pulled away. Lance let him go, trying not to feel too stupid for asking and failing the longer nothing was said. It was only a few seconds before Keith said, “I don’t want to argue with you.” He wouldn’t look at Lance while he spoke, purposely stood off to the side where Lance couldn’t get a good look at him. “I - I’ve taken my anger out on you since we’ve been here.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. His bangs lifted off his face briefly, his dark eyes flicking to Lance and darting away again. “I mean… You thought I hated you. I just thought that - if I could stop arguing with you so much, you wouldn’t - I mean, I wouldn’t give you the wrong idea.”

Lance blinked. “Wait. Wait a minute.”

Keith was blushing. Lightly, but still.

Lance leaned close to him. “Let me get this straight.” He gestured at Keith with one hand. “You - grumpy, stabby, mullet boy wonder - “

Keith sent him a flat stare that he ignored.

“ - are afraid to make me upset?” He gestured back at himself, staring Keith down.

“I never said that.”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

Keith rolled his eyes. The flush in his cheeks hadn’t faded. “Just because I don’t want to argue with you doesn’t mean I’m afraid of upsetting you. It means that arguing with you hasn’t done anything but make me say things I regret. We’re supposed to be friends.” He crossed his arms, shrugging. “I don’t want to be mean to my friends. I don’t want you to think I hate you when we’re supposed to be helping each other. So, I decided not to argue. That’s all.”

Lance considered that. It made sense, in a way. Anything exceptionally harsh Keith had slung at him had been in the middle of an argument, or in a situation where Keith was stressed or angry. Still, though. “Okay,” he said, “but, dude, a good chunk of our friendship is giving each other shit. It’s weird when that doesn’t happen. I’ve been insulting you for two days to try and provoke you, and you’ve done nothing! It’s _weird.”_

“It’s been really hard not to snap at you,” Keith said. The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he spoke, the flush fading from his skin. “Especially today.”

“I tried very hard to make you mad,” Lance said with a nod.

Keith muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘what an idiot’. He started to speak, then stopped, head snapping to Lance suddenly. “Hang on,” he said. “Was - Is that why you were flirting” -his voice cracked on the word- “in the lounge earlier?”

Lance hesitated. That whole thing was a bit embarrassing now. He shrugged, aiming for a casual smile. “Uh… Kind of, yeah?”

Keith just stared at him. “You… Kind of? What part of that was ‘kind of’ true?”

Instead of answering, Lance headed down the stairs around him.

And, of course, Keith’s footsteps followed him. “Lance, do you know how confusing that is? You can’t flirt with people like that.”

His voice was close. Lance sped up, hopping the last few steps. He had the stairwell door halfway open when Keith’s next words stopped him.

“Especially not when you’re basically offering sexual favors.”

Slowly, Lance turned.

Keith stood just at the bottom of the stairs, eyes focused somewhere above them both as he spoke. “I mean, it’s just… it’s not cool.”

“Sex-Sexual favors?” Lance repeated. He could feel heat blossoming over his face, spreading fast down his neck.

At his voice, Keith’s eyes snapped to his. Those stupid _stupid_ dark eyes widened, Keith flushing just as fast as Lance was. “I just - “

 _“Sexual favors!?”_ Lance said again, voice rising.

“You said it!”

“When - ? Who - I did not!” He was yelling now, wasn’t sure if he could stop himself. “What the hell, Keith?”

Keith threw a hand out toward him. “What else did you mean then?”

Lance’s response was just a confused noise.

“You said you could give ‘something more’!” Keith said, red deepening over his cheeks. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Not that!” He paused. “Wh-Whatever you thought, it was wrong.”

“Yeah, obviously!”

A short, tense silence fell over them. Lance’s heart was hammering against his ribs. He leaned against the half open door, pushing it further. “What exactly _did_ you think?” he asked, squinting at Keith.

He was kind of afraid of the answer.

Keith snapped his mouth shut, throwing his eyes to the ceiling again. The flush  in his face darkened even more, something Lance wouldn’t have thought possible. He didn’t answer.

Lance was about to walk away and find a way to forget this entire conversation happened when a voice spoke right behind him.

“Uh, guys?”

He shrieked, whirling around.

Rinoc was standing there, one hand on the door, eyes on Lance.

Lance cursed. “What?” he asked, raising a hand to clutch at his chest. “You scared the crap outta me.”

“Just thought this sounded like something you should talk about in your room,” Rinoc said, “rather than out here for everyone to listen to.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

Lance leaned around him and met the eyes of over a dozen curious aliens. They stood at the open door of the nearby barracks, leaned out of the cafeteria, and even the doors lining the walls. Every one of them probably heard all of that. “Oh no,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper.

Behind him, he heard Keith very quietly say, “Oh my God.”

One of those aliens happened to be Y’skai, standing by the cafeteria door with a glass raised to his mouth. It did nothing to hide the grin on the alien’s face. “Can you kill me?” Lance asked Rinoc, not moving his gaze off Y’skai. “Like, just wipe me out of existence right now, thanks.”

Rinoc didn’t miss a beat: “No can do, kid. Avilus would kill me.”

So dinner was awkward, and it was totally all Keith’s fault. If he hadn’t said ‘sexual favors’, none of this would have happened.

But he did. The twins were curious.

They spent dinner explaining how Lance had flirted and why he’d said it at all. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the twins saw that as a good opening to explain that their species didn’t have sex for fun. Their species had no concept of ‘sexual favors’ or anything beyond mating to produce children. Apparently, it was fascinating to encounter a species that just… had sex. For fun.

It was the worst dinner Lance had ever had.

He spent that night as far from Keith as the bed would allow.

✦✦✦✦✦

The next several days passed by fast. They fought the next few days, then the arena had its off days and they spent most of their time training. Each day, Lance felt the ever-present sadness fading until his joking nature felt normal again. To the point where every smile felt more real and less forced, where he no longer had to yank himself out of dark thoughts. He teased Keith with no problems, even stomached a conversation with the twins about family without wanting to melt into the floor. It was still rough, of course, but it always was when his family came up.

Not to say he was totally okay - he still faced Avilus’s post-fight encounters with dread and avoided the aliens’ gaze. He still waited for the inevitable news that Avilus had found someone else to take him, spent a part of each night wondering how long he had before he was taken from here. For the most part, though, Lance was feeling pretty good.

Even things with Keith were improving. Sure, a huge part of that was the fact that Lance didn’t have to wonder about if the guy hated him or not. Kind of hard to cry in someone’s arms without acknowledging that they were friends.

But, things with Keith were also ...changing. 

It all started the morning after that horrible ‘sexual favors’ incident. Keith was sitting across from him, like always. The twins hadn’t made it through the line yet to join them. Lance was in the middle of explaining to Keith that he liked it when they argued - “To a point,” he said, jabbing his alien spork in Keith’s direction. “Like, the stupid insults and all that? That’s fun.”

Keith looked from the spork to Lance. He had his head resting on one hand, his tray barely touched. “I have missed telling you when you say something dumb,” he said.

“Right? So you should totally do that.” He paused to shove a chunk of unidentifiable meat into his mouth. Tasted kinda like overdone pork. “Just don’t pick a fight when you’re mad.”

Keith sighed. “Yeah.” He talked for a bit about how he used to vent his anger on the Castle by training. The Gladiator couldn’t exactly get angry or upset at Keith slashing at it since its whole purpose was to do the same right back at him.

Lance interrupted him to say, “Dude. I’m pretty sure a guard won’t kill you if you want to train more. Just ask one sometime.”

“Ask one,” Keith repeated. His eyes sought out the nearest guard and Lance followed his gaze, twisting in his seat to spy an armored guard leaning against the door. “I usually train with Rinoc.”

“Well, there ya go,” Lance said, turning back to face Keith. “Next time you gotta train with him, ask him if you can have extra time or something.” He shrugged, lifting another sporkful of meat up. “Rinoc seems pretty chill.”

After meeting Lance’s eyes for a moment, Keith lowered his gaze to his tray, reaching forward to pick up his own spork. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s worth a shot.” Then he raised his eyes again, looking at Lance through the hair falling into his eyes. He smiled and it was _soft_ and different from the usual brief amused looks. “Thanks for the idea.”

Maybe it was something in his eyes that made this smile different. Those goddamn stupid eyes -

Lance stared at him, took a sharp breath, and choked on his food.

It wasn’t even a big thing.

So Keith smiled at him? So what?

Not like it hadn’t happened before.

Except after that morning, Lance spent the rest of the day sneaking looks in Keith’s direction. He’d skate his eyes over Keith’s profile, over his jawline, mentally tracing over the way his bangs fell into his face. If Keith caught him looking, Lance would toss out an insult. “Your hair looks worse than usual,” or “Thought there was something on your face but it turns out you just look like that way.” It got Keith to roll his eyes and gave Lance a few precious seconds to berate himself for even looking in the first place.

It was Keith. There was nothing to look at.

They played cards after morning training and Lance lost. Probably because he stared at his cards and didn’t even comprehend what was on them, too busy wondering why the hell Keith was interesting today.

Maybe Lance just didn’t sleep enough.

Or the food the arena served today was doing something to him. Messing with his head.

Before they went into their fight, outside the arena entrance, Keith turned to him. “Focus out there,” he said. “You’ve been out of it today.”

Lance frowned. “I have not.”

Keith laughed, a smile flaring to life. “Just pay attention, alright? I’m counting on you.”

In that instant, watching the expression spring to life on Keith’s face, Lance understood that he had been waiting for this. That he’d been looking at Keith all day just to see another one of those soft goddamn smiles.

And what the hell was up with that?

It plagued him throughout the match, hovering in the back of his mind as he lined up shots. At least during the fights, the itch to focus on Keith was a normal thing. Swinging the sniper’s scope to follow his partner was a part of how this went - hard to give Keith directions and assistance if he wasn’t paying attention. They won and when Lance descended to the arena floor, Keith turned a satisfied smile his way.

By the time he laid down for the night, Lance was determined to get a handle on himself. He was going to be normal tomorrow, gonna go through the motions of an enslaved fighter and nothing else. Maybe he’d hang out with Khattala again, teach her more human slang. That’d be nice.

He dreamt about Earth. An Earth with aliens populating the streets and oceans hanging in the sky, strange cities folding in on themselves - but Earth nonetheless. There was a pretty young girl with him through part of it. At some point, she faded out and when Lance turned to where she had been, he found Keith instead - Keith smiling and laughing, his hand in Lance’s. They explored the strange cities together, found a strange cave where Coran was living with a family of thirty foot bears, and all of it felt right. Like Keith was supposed to be there, holding him close.

The dream shattered with the lights snapping on.

Lance growled quietly, pressing himself closer to Keith. It took another second for it to sink in that he had, yet again, gravitated to Keith during the night and had an arm around his waist. He had his face pressed between Keith’s shoulder blades, body curved around the other boy’s, legs tangled. Keith’s shirt had rode up, leaving three of Lance’s fingers pressed against his skin. It was warm and comfortable.

He pulled himself away pretty fast. By the time Keith was waking up, Lance was halfway out the door. “Hurry up,” he said, glancing back.

Keith ran a hand through his hair, staring at him with dazed eyes, still half-asleep. “Huh?”

“Uh, breakfast?” It came out higher than usual because Lance’s brain had crumbled to a halt - Keith was cute when he woke up and he really shouldn’t be. At all.

Lance was definitely going to find someone else to hang out with today.

He meant that.

It wasn’t like it was _his_ fault that he ended up following Keith to his morning training. After breakfast, Rinoc had come to collect Keith for his training. He’d taken one look at Lance and said, “Khattala’s busy right now. She’ll get you when she can.”

And Lance, for whatever stupid reason, had responded, “That’s cool. Can I come with you guys then?”

So now here he was, leaning against a wall and watching Keith fight an alien he’d never seen before. Apparently, it was one of the arena’s solo fighters - or so Rinoc had told him - and this was how Keith’s training usually went. Unlike Lance, where he was faced with hours of drills and moving targets and Khattala fixing his stance when he slipped, Keith got real people to fight with. Solo fighters, guards, whatever. He also got to don his armor for protection against his opponent’s blows, which Lance found himself wishing he could do as well.

Usually, the sniper recoiling into his shoulder made it ache. Armor absorbed it.

Rinoc was standing to Lance’s right, arms crossed, watching. Every so often, he’d bark for them to stop, walk over to correct one of their stances or whisper something to them before going back to where Lance was and letting them resume. Right now, he walked over to Keith, leaning down close to him.

Lance watched the fight for a couple seconds before looking to Rinoc. “What’d you tell him?” he asked.

“I give them pointers,” Rinoc said. “Whenever one of them is having trouble, I try to give them some tips to help. In this case, I told Keith where his enemies weak point is.”

Lance raised his brows, looking from Rinoc to the fight. Keith was dodging his enemy’s swings easily. “Weak point?” he repeated.

“Yeah.” Rinoc leaned over to him, gesturing at the alien opposite Keith. “This guy’s armor latches in the back, leaves the lower back open to attack. He tends to keep his enemy in front of him because, obviously, if you hit him from behind, he’s an easy target.”

To Lance, the alien’s armor didn’t look too different from his own. “Uh. If you say so.”

Keith was trying to circle around but the alien was moving with him.

“So you told Keith what to do?” he asked.

Rinoc shook his head. “Nope. I gave him a suggestion.”

“You told him what to do.”

“May have also told him that his enemy’s race has weak knee joints.”

The alien in question had two joints in his legs. Lance eyed the alien’s legs, wondering which joint counted as a knee. “So why’s Keith get the tips then?” he asked. “It looked like a pretty fair fight.”

“This guy’s won over fifty fights in a row,” Rinoc said. “He has more endurance than whoever he fights and just wears them down. I’m giving Keith a chance to end it fast.” He paused, shrugged, and added, “Mostly because I don’t want to be standing here for an hour.”

“That is more than fair.”

The fight went by quick. Lance watched the pair dance around one another, swords grazing armor as they attacked. He tried to chat more with Rinoc, but the alien only gave short answers if he said anything at all. Nothing about Earth, or his species, or anything else Lance could think of got anything out of the guy. After several failed attempts at conversation he said, “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Rinoc didn’t even look away from the fight. “Not much to talk about.” He did look at Lance then, his eyes flashing in the light overhead. “Why are you trying to talk to me anyway?”

Lance looked from him to the fight and back again. “Dunno,” he said. “You guards aren’t that bad.”

Rinoc snorted. “Only some. A lot of the others won’t talk to slaves.”

“Could be worse.” Could have guards who liked to beat him as much as a certain dinosaur alien did.

“Yeah, well…” Rinoc paused, both of them watching as Keith dived around his enemy and sliced his sword in the back of its legs. The blade hit right on the back of the first leg joint. “It isn’t like we’re all that different from you guys.”

Keith was brutal, sliding from one side of the alien to the other to get at his opposite leg.

“You mean, like… We’re all the same inside?” Lance asked.

“No,” Rinoc said. “I mean like none of us are all that free here.”  He was moving before Lance could react, heading to the pair fighting and separating them. As Lance watched, Rinoc let the strange alien leave, taking the sword as he passed by. The alien turned his head toward Lance briefly and then it was gone.

In the center of the room, Rinoc spun the sword in his hand. Keith stood several feet in front of him and, even from where Lance sat, it was obvious he was panting. In a loud, clear voice, Rinoc said, “Soon as you’re ready.”  Barely a minute passed before Keith was nodding.

Then they were fighting, rushing one another with swords out. With nothing else to do, Lance watched. He sank down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, hands over his knees. He started out watching Rinoc - the guard moved fast, each swing violent and fluid, each step purposeful. Soon, though, his eyes were on Keith and nothing else. Facing Rinoc put him on defense at first and Keith was dodging swings and slices, parrying the guard’s blade, weaving through the empty space between them. Lance watched his footwork, gaze climbing up his legs and settling on the arm he held the sword in, watching as he swung out or drew the blade close to himself.

From this distance, he couldn’t see much of Keith’s face. The pair of them moved so quick that he only got occasional glances - Keith, brows drawn sharp in determination, eyes darker than usual behind the visor, mouth a thin line.

It was strangely fascinating to watch Keith fight. Lance felt sure he could sit there the whole training session with his attention locked on Keith.

Eventually, the door slid open again. A series of three knocks rang out and he snapped his gaze off Keith to lock eyes with Khattala. She had one hand raised, knuckles resting against the wall where she’d knocked. She blinked and then she was looking at the center of the room. “Hey. Hate to interrupt, but I need to steal Lance,” she said, nodding toward him.

The pair fighting had stilled at the first knock. Keith had his hands on his knees, drawing deep breaths in. Rinoc looked unbothered but when he spoke, it was clear that he too was panting. “No problem,” he said to Khattala. Then, to Keith, “Five dobosh break.”

Keith nodded.

Lance had climbed to his feet, started toward where Khattala waited for him. He was still looking at Keith and for a moment, Keith raised his head, met his gaze. Lance stopped and, without even turning to face her, told Khattala, “Give me one sec.”  He heard her sigh and paid no attention, already on his way to Keith’s side.

Keith straightened back up as Lance drew close. “What,” he said, still breathing heavy, “are you doing?”

Lance laid a hand on his shoulder. “I just remembered that you need to ask your trainer there for some, uh… bonus time.” He shot Rinoc a quick glance but the guard was examining the sword he held, paying them no attention. Lance dropped his voice anyway. “Like, say it’s extra training sessions or something. We both know it’s just for you to blow off steam - and, honestly, I don’t think he’d care if that’s why you want them.”

Keith was staring at him, brow furrowed. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“Great. So you’ll ask him?”

Keith shrugged one shoulder.

Lance didn’t move.

Slowly, Keith raised his eyebrows. “Are you going or what?”

“Ask him,” Lance said.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“Uh.” Keith stared at Rinoc, then at Lance, eyes wide. “We’re in the middle of training - “

“In the middle of a break,” Lance said.

“I’ll ask him later.”

“You’ll forget.”

“Lance.”

Lance took a step back, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You won’t do it,” he said after a beat. “So I’ll do it for you.”

“What? Lance, no - “

He had already turned to face the guard. “Hey, Rinoc!”

The alien’s head snapped up. He didn’t say anything.

“Keith wants extra training sessions,” Lance said.

Behind him, Keith was snarling insults.

Rinoc seemed to be considering it. He was quiet for a few seconds, then he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Not like I do much else other than train people anyway. When were you thinking?”

That last part was clearly for Keith and left him no other options but to answer. He stumbled over his words at first, but managed to get out, “I can, uh... I can find you when it’s a good time?”

Again, Rinoc nodded.

That taken care of, Lance grinned at Keith, patting him on his lower back, where the armor didn’t cover. His hand lingered there for a second before he was joining Khattala and following her from the room. She didn’t ask what that was about and he didn’t bother bringing it up, fine with the silence as they walked.

From what he’d seen, Rinoc could not only match Keith in battle but challenge him. And while they were stuck in this arena, there was no better way for Keith to cool off than to focus completely on a fight. Extra sparring with Rinoc would work great - especially if Keith was still worried about snapping at him.

✦✦✦✦✦

The following day was nothing special. They trained, they fought. They won again and Lance still tensed in Avilus’s presence, drawing back into himself for a few minutes after. The alien hadn’t mentioned selling him but that didn’t stop him from worrying about it every time he laid eyes on that prick.

That was fine. It was only a few minutes he had to deal with it. Easily handled.

More concerning was that Lance had spent that entire day around Keith again. Had even dedicated their usual card playing time to telling Keith dumb stories and bad jokes just to watch him smile, make him laugh. One of the stories he told involved a description of himself getting injured and he must have delivered it perfectly because Keith laughed harder than he had before. He laid his cards down, one hand on top of them, leaning forward while he laughed - mouth cut open in a grin, eyes screwed shut.

The whole thing - the sound, the sight of Keith cracking up over something dumb he’d done - it made Lance grin. Made his chest warm too, but that wasn’t important.

He didn’t think about it until he was getting ready for bed that night, where he asked himself what the hell that had been about. Sure, he had always gotten a kick out of making Keith laugh but that was because Keith was a surly jerk. It was a testament to Lance’s charm that he could make a guy like Keith even crack a smile, so of course making him laugh was worth extra.

Something was different now, though.

He cast a look at Keith in the dark. The other boy was already under the blankets, lying with his back to Lance. With a sigh, Lance shoved the blankets back and laid down beside him.

Maybe he could figure it out tomorrow.

Except the next day was much the same. Lance hung out with Keith, tried to get him to laugh or at least smile, snuck glances at him the entire day. The only time he wasn’t with Keith was when they split up for training and even then, Lance went looking for him after.

Keith must have gotten out of training earlier than Lance that day because he was curled up in bed again, blankets drawn around him. The lights were off in their room, leaving the suns to highlight Keith’s shape. Lance hovered at the door, looking at Keith. It was obvious that the other boy had fallen asleep, treated himself to a nap in one of their rare free moments.

Lance thought he should probably let Keith sleep.

He was about to turn and leave, see if the twins were in their room, when a guard approached him. “Hey, champion boy,” the alien said. It was one Lance hadn’t seen - or at least one he didn’t remember. “Where’s your partner?”

“In there,” Lance said. He waved a hand in the still open doorway. “Why?”

“You got a fight in twenty,” the guard said. “Be upstairs in fifteen.” They left without even waiting for his response, heading back through the hall, pushing fighters out of their way.

Lance gave their retreating form a sour look before walking into the darkened room. He hesitated before turning the lights back on. Since the lights didn’t wake Keith in the mornings, he didn’t think they would now. A good guess since Keith didn’t even twitch on the bed. Slowly, Lance walked to his side, door sliding shut once he was far enough away. Up close, and with the lights on, Lance could appreciate how Keith looked in his sleep.

The usual sharp lines of his brows were smooth, his entire face relaxed. His bangs fell in his face, like always, but the rest of his hair fanned out behind his head. Lance stood by the bed for far too long, just looking, eyes tracing over Keith’s jawline and the slope of his nose and then lingering on his mouth because his lips were parted just so and -

Really, what the hell was he doing?

Lance shook his head lightly, as if to shake anything unwanted out of his head (and, man, if he could, he’d shake free anything that had him so drawn to Keith lately). He took a seat on the bed by Keith’s legs then reached forward to shake him.

All that got in return was Keith grumbling, a light furrow appearing in his forehead.

“Hey, man,” Lance said. His voice was too quiet, hushed like he wasn’t there to wake Keith up. He tried again, forcing himself louder: “Dude. Get up.”

Keith raised one hand to swat at him, missing because he hadn’t opened his eyes.

“We gotta fight soon,” Lance said, shaking him again. “C’mon, Keithy-boy. Wakey wakey.”

Finally, Keith cracked his eyes open. The glare he sent Lance was pathetic, his eyes barely open. It was honestly pretty fucking cute. “What?” he said, voice scratchy from sleep. “I’m sleeping, you asshole.” His eyes started to close again and Lance shook him again, harder. “Jesus! What?”

“We have to fight,” Lance repeated. “In, like, fifteen minutes. Time to get up.”

Keith let his head back, sighing so long it basically became a groan. “I just got done training,” he said.

“Yeah, so did I.” He hadn’t moved his hands yet, still holding onto Keith’s shoulders. That was probably weird. And now that he noticed, he couldn’t stop noticing until he yanked them back. “Honestly,” he said, ripping his eyes off Keith - because what if it was weird that he was still looking at him? What if Keith somehow knew Lance had been watching him sleep, even if was just for a little bit? “I’d rather take a nap too. At least tomorrow an off day, right? I think it is, anyway. Might have to ask someone - but anyway, yeah. We can nap tomorrow and no one can interrupt it and - “

Keith yawning cut him off. He stopped talking mid sentence, turning his gaze back to his partner. Almost immediately, he snickered, biting his lip to stop from grinning. Keith had sat up and, for whatever reason, his hair was even more of a mess than usual. It looked like a combination of helmet hair and sleep-mussed disaster. “Jeez, dude,” Lance said. “It’s like you’re trying to make it look worse.”

Of course all Keith did was tilt his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Your hair,” Lance said, gesturing at him. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

Keith raised a hand to run through his hair and only succeeded in making it even messier. “Doing what?” he said, frowning now. “Is it that bad?”

“Oh, yeah. And you’re making it worse.”

Instantly, Keith dropped his hand to his lap. He said, “I guess I’ll go fix it,” but before he’d even finished talking, Lance had shifted closer.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Lance said, flashing him a quick grin. “I’ll get you lookin’ right.”

Keith hummed an answer, eyes dropping. “Sure,” he said with a badly stifled yawn. “Why not?”

There was a big reason why not that was immediately obvious. Lance plunged his hands into Keith’s messy hair and drew in a sharp breath. It was soft - and part of him rejected that fact immediately because that couldn’t be true. No one with hair this badly styled would also have that hair be this soft, but it was. Another part of him knew that already since he had woken up several times with his face in Keith’s hair.

But a large part of Lance’s brain had screeched to a halt. He sat there, drawing his hands through Keith’s stupidly soft hair, and could barely think. His fingers moved against Keith’s scalp, searching for knots, and Keith hummed again. A low sound, clearly pleased. Lance snuck a glanced at his face and was unsurprised to find Keith’s eyes shut again. A light smile tugged at his lips.

Lance felt heat rising in his face. Why was he blushing?

He’d done this a couple times now, detangled Keith’s awful terrible stupid mullet. Had never blushed before.

Belatedly, he realized he was sitting closer to Keith than he thought. So close that if Keith leaned forward just an inch or two, he could be resting against Lance’s chest - and, great. Now that thought was in his head and he had a sudden, very strong desire to have Keith lying against him while he played with the boy’s hair.

What the fuck.

He swallowed hard, focusing on finding tangles and smoothing everything down. The sooner he got Keith looking presentable, the sooner he could pull away and not sit here thinking about this kind of shit. He pulled too hard at a stubborn knot and Keith hissed through his teeth. Without thinking, Lance ran his fingers through that same section of hair, scratching at Keith’s scalp lightly.

Again, Keith hummed quietly. “If you keep doing that,” he said, “I’m gonna fall asleep again.” His voice was lower than when he’d first woken up, rough. It made Lance’s stomach turn in a way that felt oddly pleasant.

“Good to know,” he said, eyes on Keith’s face. He was hardly paying attention to what he was doing, just running his hands through the other boy’s hair over and over. If he found knots, he fixed it without looking. Before too long, he was simply sitting there, letting Keith’s hair fall between his fingers. If there wasn’t a fight to head to, he probably could have sat there for a long while.

Which was totally weird.

At least the heat in his face had faded.

Clearing his throat, Lance pulled his hands back - but then he paused. He thought about the other times he’d done this and then he pushed Keith’s bangs out of his face with one hand. The other may have dropped onto one of Keith’s hands, holding onto him. “Alright, mullet boy,” he said softly. “Eyes up. It’s fightin’ time.”

Keith’s eyes opened as he spoke, meeting Lance’s own. He looked more awake now at least. “Is there a reason you always do that?” he asked.

Lance raised a brow. “Do what?”

“Move my bangs.”

Lance blinked. Pushing Keith’s bangs back was a joke that first time, a way for Lance to get a good look at how red he’d gotten. But now Keith wasn’t red, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He looked amused and all Lance could think was that Keith looked good like this.

He pulled his hand away like he’d been burned.

“No reason,” he said. “Just wanna see your actual face.”

Keith’s smile grew. “What? Why?”

Yeah, he’d said too much. Lance shrugged, lobbed some half-hearted excuse out as he got to his feet. Something about the mullet and then he was babbling about how Keith could even see like that. Stupid stuff, but Keith bought it. He led the way back upstairs, thankfully not commenting when Lance didn’t hold up his side of their usual banter.

That was nice of him, seeing as Lance was trying to wrap his head around why he cared how Keith looked and why he wanted Keith in his arms and why in God’s name any of this mattered at all.

✦✦✦✦✦

By lunch the next day, Lance was pretty sure he had it all figured out.

He was losing his mind. The arena had finally gotten to him, cracked him wide open. There was no other explanation.

It took hours to come to that conclusion. Hours of training where he made mistakes and had to endure Khattala steadily losing patience with him. He’d miss an easy shot, fail a drill he usually passed with flying colors, and then she’d be in his face. “What is going on?” she asked after the fourth or fifth failure. “You’re worse than you were when you first got here.”

Lance didn’t have an answer. At least, not one that wouldn’t make him sound absolutely insane. So all he could do was shrug and ready the gun in his hands for another round. There was no doubt that his lack of an answer was irritating her, and he may have felt bad about that if he wasn’t so distracted.

Because that morning, Lance had woken from a dream that had been plagued with Keith. Like most dreams, the details had faded fast and left him with very little - except for one thing that he just couldn’t shake. In the dream, Lance had had Keith in his arms and had kissed him. Like, right on the mouth. And not just once, but multiple times. It’d left him feeling warm inside when he woke up, a smile on his face - up until it sank in just what he’d been dreaming about. Once it did, though, Lance had shot backwards from Keith so fast he nearly toppled off the bed.

Because _of course_ he’d been spooning Keith again. Of course that had happened while he was dreaming about kissing the guy.

And then he’d spent breakfast awkwardly avoiding Keith’s gaze and trying to pretend he’d never dreamed such a thing in the first place, because why would he dream that? Why would he - even in his dreams - ever think kissing Keith was a good idea?

It was _Keith._ The guy was his rival and had a terrible haircut and - and he was a guy. Right. Yeah, that was a big problem too.

Lance didn’t think about kissing guys.

(Except for this one time in the Garrison, but that was a fluke.)

He spent the entire morning thinking about it - about Dream Lance having bad taste, about why this was happening, about why Keith of all people would ever haunt him like this. The idea hit him in passing at first. He was missing targets and groaning about it, grumbling to himself about stupid Keith and his stupid eyes and stupid hair. Then he said, “Maybe I’m just losing my damn mind in here.”

So, yeah.

Lance was going crazy.

It was with that in mind that he vowed to get himself back under control. So he had one dumb dream? So what? He could, at the very least, go crazy quietly rather than getting so wound up with anxiety. Especially since it was a dream. Lance could exactly control what Dream Lance was up to - and maybe he just wanted to kiss someone in general. But since all he’d been around lately was Keith, Dream Lance saw no issues there.

Even though there were lots of issues.

For one thing, he spent an awful lot of time with Khattala, who was both attractive and a girl. Why not kiss her instead?

Man. He was a mess.

By the time he sat down across from Keith for lunch, Lance was no calmer than he’d been at breakfast. He didn’t want to look the other boy in the eyes, didn’t even want to be near him in case somehow his dream became common knowledge. Because maybe in the few hours since he’d last him, Keith had developed some kind of telepathy. It was stupid, but it still had him tense when he reached the table.

Keith was already halfway through eating. He looked up, locked eyes with Lance, and smiled. “Hey. Still acting weird?”

Lance’s hands tightened on his tray. Oh, good. Keith had noticed - and if he could tell, then everyone could tell. Great. “Uh. What? I’m not acting weird. Why would you - Y’know what? _You’re_ weird.”

There was a pause, and then Keith laughed quietly. “Yeah. I definitely believe you.”

“Shut up,” Lance hissed, slamming his hands flat on the table. “I’m totally fine. This is how I always act.”  He was ignoring how nice Keith’s laugh was - shit, he’d been thinking that the entire past week. Had wanted to make Keith laugh for literally no other reason than it was nice to hear.

He was going to ignore all of that too. Pretend he never thought it.

Keith quirked a brow. “Right.”

“It is!”

Keith held his gaze for another second before he glanced through the cafeteria. “So… before the twins join us,” he said, smile dropping, “if you need to talk about something, then remember I’m here.” He turned back to Lance, brow furrowing. “Don’t let things build up like you did before, okay? You don’t have to pretend to be okay if you’re not.” He reached across the table to fold his hand over Lance’s.

Something in Lance’s gut built itself a fire. He dropped his gaze to their hands, feeling his face heat up. The edge of his anxiety, that feeling that had been gnawing at him all day, eased away and he sighed, shoulders slumping. How dare Keith bring up that night, even in reference, when Lance was trying to stop thinking about him? “I… can’t,” he said quietly. He met Keith’s eyes again while he spoke. “Can’t talk about it. Not, uh - not with you.”

“Oh.” Keith drew his hand back, frown deepening. His dark eyes burned, peering into Lance. “Well... if you change your mind, I guess?”

Lance nodded quickly, shoving strange meat into his mouth to prevent himself from saying something stupid. Like how, in that short moment, he’d thought Keith showing concern was the nicest thing. Or how he kind of wanted to hug Keith right now. Or that his eyes were pretty.

…Pretty stupid, he corrected himself. Keith’s eyes were pretty stupid.

Thankfully, he was spared further conversation with Keith alone as the twins took their usual spots. Y’skai turned the conversation to something that had happened during their training that morning. Apparently he’d accidentally stabbed the poor soul he had been facing with one of his shock swords and the outcome wasn’t pretty. It was definitely a welcome distraction for Lance, albeit a rather grisly one. Listening to Y’skai describe the sounds of the alien screaming and the smell of its skin burning was disgusting and not dinner appropriate. It drew Lance’s dismal thoughts back from where they were hiding, had his thoughts churning so fast he felt a bit sick.

At least it helped calm him down a bit.

And that was a good thing since right after dinner, he and Keith were to head to the arena for training with Avilus. They hadn’t done this sort of thing since they became champions, but Avilus had seized the opportunity an off day provided. He pitted them against a pair of guards, then a pair of slaves, and then fell back on his old favorite and chased them around the arena. It was a long, grueling training session and left Lance with no time to think about Keith and his stupid dreams.

Why worry about what he did in a dream when his reality was this hell?

He kept that mindset for almost an entire day, but when he found himself back in the arena the next afternoon, it all came crashing back.

They were standing around, waiting for Avilus to bring in the next pair they were to face. Lance had one hand on Keith’s shoulder, using the barrel of his sniper to knock clumps of dirt off one of his boots. Keith had scolded him for it, said the gun was expensive and doing that was stupid, not to mention dangerous. “What if you shot yourself?’ he said.

Lance looked up from what he was doing. “How am I gonna shoot myself if I don’t have a finger on the trigger?”

Keith had his sword stuck in the dirt. He made a face at Lance’s questioning and used the sword to dislodge a small rock. “I don’t know,” he said. “That isn’t the point, anyway.”

“Uh huh. What’s your point then?” He paused, smirked, and added, “You worried about me, Keithy-boy?”

Keith didn’t answer, but his cheeks flushed.

Lance chuckled, went back to what he was doing, and tried not to notice the warmth in his gut. “That’s kinda cute, y’know.” Immediately, he tensed. Did he just call Keith cute? He probably shouldn’t have done that.

Keith made some kind of strangled noise. “What?”

Time to play it cool. “Huh?” He was just gonna act like he’d said absolutely nothing.

“Not wanting you to injure yourself is cute?”

“Uhh.” He faltered for a response and only ended up looking back at Keith - looking straight into those stupid stupid pretty goddamn eyes. Talking was suddenly very hard. Keith was staring at him, face screwed up in confusion. Lance was pretty sure he should say something but all he could think was _cute._

First he said it, now he was thinking it.

He really had to get a grip. Guys weren’t supposed to be cute, especially not Keith.

Luckily, Avilus came back with a pair of guards in tow, so there wasn’t anymore time for Lance to embarrass himself. He took off back to the vents, to cover Keith as they went through the motions of the mock fight. Lance spent the next couple hours pulling himself together, shoving anything relating to Keith being cute way in the back of his mind. Hopefully, all that mess would suffocate and die back there and Lance could go back to being normal. He left training confident he’d be able to make it through the rest of the day without thinking about Keith in any way other than his grumpy friend he liked to insult.

Naturally, he was wrong.

They had barely sat down for dinner - Lance hadn’t even taken a bite yet - when he glanced across at Keith in time to catch the other boy licking his lips. And Lance watched it, tracked the motion of Keith’s tongue and then he just… stared. At the guy’s mouth.

A chunk of the gray meat on Keith’s tray was missing, and he said, “Huh. Doesn’t taste that bad tonight.”

Beside him, Y’skai said, “It never tastes that bad. You two are just picky.”

“It’s pretty horrible most days,” Keith countered.

This was something that came up at least once a week, or whenever one of them would offer their unappetizing meat to Y’skai. The alien would insist everything tasted fine, and usually Lance would immediately start telling him he had no taste buds whatsoever, that the food was terrible, that Lance himself could make better food and he didn’t even know what ingredients the arena used. And right now, this was where he’d start up with all that nonsense. He knew that.

Clearly, Keith knew it as well because his eyes flicked to Lance, eyebrows raised expectantly.

But all Lance was capable of doing was finally wrenching his gaze from Keith and staring at his own tray. Heat was flaring in his cheeks and he raised a hand to cover his face, trying to hide it from view. He stared wide-eyed down at the food, heart pounding in his chest.

“Uh, are you alright?” Keith asked.

“Yep!” His voice was far too high-pitched. Lance waved his free hand in the air. “Just… kinda losin’ my mind a bit. No biggie.”

“...Okay.”

What the fuck was he doing?

What the fuck had he just done?

Y’skai’s massive hand landed on his shoulder and Lance jumped, snapping his head up to face the alien. “Dude! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Y’skai pulled his hand back slowly. “I am sorry,” he said. “Your behavior lately concerns me. If you’re losing grip on your sanity, then - “

“He’s not actually going crazy,” Keith cut in. His voice made Lance look back at him. “He’s just being overdramatic.” Keith shrugged, face schooled to look calm and collected. The stare he was giving Lance, though, was entirely filled with concern. “It’s what Lance does.”

“No wonder he and Y’skai get along so well,” U’ilani said.

Lance really wanted to join in on that conversation. If it was going to end up filled with stories about Y’skai being ridiculous, he was all for it. Too bad he couldn’t think of anything besides the little fact that he’d been staring at Keith fuckin’ Kogane’s goddamn mouth because that had him remembering that stupid dream. Lance frowned at his food, poking it with a dull knife and considering just slamming his head into the meat.

After a minute or so, he sighed, cut off a piece of it, and raised it to his mouth. This was fine, just a momentary break of sanity. He was losing his mind, after all. Wasn’t like it meant anything, or that Keith would even notice. The guy was so dense Lance could have actually said ‘Hey, I want to kiss you,’ and nothing would have happened.

Not that Lance wanted to do that.

Underneath the table, Keith’s foot nudged his. Lance blinked, suddenly realized he was zoning out while staring at his friend and that Keith was staring back at him. A silent question was written over Keith’s face: What was Lance staring for? Did he have something to say?

He had not a goddamn thing to say to Keith, nope. Lance tore his gaze away. His next bite of food was probably too big.

Beneath the table, he gave Keith a light kick. It was immediately returned and he smiled to himself. That smile faded almost immediately as something rose to the front of Lance’s mind. Something he had forgotten in the midst of his constant fighting and injuries. With all his worry over Keith and a dream and this (totally random) recent focus on kissing, it must have brought this back to him.

At some point, Lance had caught Keith looking at his mouth. Keith had wanted to kiss him, and Lance had forgotten about it entirely. He had been sure of it then because why the hell else would anyone look at someone’s mouth?

Except Lance had just looked at Keith’s.

Lance choked. He breathed in too sharply, all this shit twisting around itself, and choked on a piece of meat. Immediately, Y’skai was slamming on his back and he was coughing, eyes on him as he forced the meat back up. As soon as he spat it back out, he wheezed, “ ‘M fine… just fine…”

The others didn’t question him. That was good ‘cause Lance was incapable of doing anything but asking himself what the fuck was going on.

He thought about it the rest of dinner - like, maybe he remembered wrong. Maybe he’d been totally wrong before. Maybe Keith hadn’t looked at him like that all or maybe it was just a one time thing. If Keith had been stressed from the arena, he could have had a brief moment where he wanted affection or something. That was possible, right? It totally didn’t mean he actually wanted to kiss Lance. And if he hadn’t, then there was no reason for Lance to be freaking out about it.

There was no reason to think glancing at Keith’s mouth mean Lance wanted to kiss him.

Because Lance was just losing his mind.

Yep. That was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lance: keith is cute?  
> lance: i'm going insane the arena has broken me
> 
> next chapter  
> \- lance's crisis continues  
> \- keith is confused  
> oh. there was a brief line in this chapter about lance thinkin about mackin on some guy at the garrison? that wasn't keith. just letting you know. 
> 
> also, if you can't remember what Lance is going on about at the end, its in chapter 10.


End file.
